Lethal Games
by Absolut
Summary: Set one year after movie ends. Clarice is stuck on a new case, but she receives unexpected help from an anonymous correspondent. Rating for love scenes, but nothing hard.
1. You've got mail

Lethal Games  
By Absolut.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
Note: This is my first Lecterfic, so please be nice. Reviews always welcome.  
  
  
**Chapter 1: ****You've got mail ...**  
  
Starling was looking down Price's office window. Night was falling. She had been up for about thirty six hours now and was struggling to keep focused on her new boss' voice. Michael Price sounded tired too. And she could clearly recognize frustration in his tone.  
  
Two months that they had been on this case now, and not the smallest bit of a clue. She once more listened to him summarizing the situation for Brad and her.   
  
Eight victims so far. All in Washington DC or its suburb. Different sex, different age, different social condition. The victims did not know each other, had not attended the same schools, had never belonged the same clubs. Did not read the same books, did not listen to the same music ... nothing in common.  
  
Except the fact that they all met their death in the last twelve weeks ! And a violent death as well. But even the modus operandi were different: two death by strangulation, three gun shot, one victim was stabbed twenty one times, another one was burnt alive. And yesterday Victor Talbot was found dead in his garage, decapitated with an axe.  
  
But each time, pinned to the corpse, they had found a daffodil with a one-dollar bill attached to it. Too unusual to be a coincidence ...  
  
The press had found out about the signature after the third victim was discovered. They immediately started to spread the news that a new serial killer was in town. The mayor and local police had no choice but to call for the FBI to take over the case. And this is how special agent Clarice Starling, recently re-integrated in a new field unit after the internal inquiry on her last encounter with Hannibal Lecter, found herself involved in all this.  
  
Five other bodies had been found since. All of them with the flower and the bill. Of course, they had thought of the possibility of a copycat. But two weeks ago, they had found another 'detail' that had never been published in the papers. A photo. The picture of a little boy, maybe five or six years old. The same photo found in the wallet of each and every victim.  
  
They showed the picture to the families and friends of the victims, but no one could identify the child so far.  
  
  
Price was finishing his speech. Brad Davenport, her new partner, had stopped listening for quite some time.  
" - OK," Price concluded " I think we all long for a little rest. Starling, tomorrow I want you to take the first flight to Denver to go and talk with Talbot ex-wife. You'll find her name and address in the file. Davenport, you will take three men with you and go back to the last crime scene. Re-examine everything."  
  
Davenport looked desperate:  
  
"- Sir, we already spent one full day there and ...  
- I know, but I can't afford the risk we've missed something. See you tomorrow."  
  
The two agents left the office. In the elevator, going down to the garage, both remained silent. There wasn't much to say. They finally reached their cars and wished each other goodnight.   
  


* * *

****  
Starling stopped by a chinese take-away on her way home. Last thing she felt like tonight was cooking. She pushed the door of the five storage building and absentmindedly took her mail.  
  
Her apartment was not big but comfortable. She left everything on the kitchen table and went to the bathroom. A shower would do her good.  
  
After she had washed and changed, she sat at the table and started opening the little white boxes containing her dinner. She had a brief look at her mail. Dentist bill, gas bill ... Nothing that could not wait till she came back from Denver.  
  
While she started eating, her attention got drawn by a little envelope she had not seen before. It was of greeting cards size and wore no name or address. She opened it, intrigued. Inside was only a white card. She took it out and read it. Just a few words, written in a condensed handwriting:  
  


_What if there were more than one assassin, Clarice ?  
Have you thought of that ?_

  
" What the hell is t...". She had a second look at the card and the envelope. There was nothing apart from these two questions. No way the postman could have delivered that. Someone had had to come to her place and leave it himself. After a first rush of panic, she relaxed a bit. Was probably just a joke. The newspaper and TV had mentioned she was on the 'daffodil case', as the media called it. Anyone could have entered the building and left the card, just for the fun of scaring an FBI agent.  
  
She put the card back on the table and finished her dinner quietly. She was too touchy these days. She sure could use some sleep. And the first plane to Denver was at 7:20. Price would not appreciate if she missed it.  
  
After dinner, she put a few clothes and the case file in a little bag and went to bed. Five minutes later, she was sleeping like a baby.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	2. The widow

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 2: The widow  
  
The sun was shining on Denver but it was much colder than in Washington. According to the map they gave her at the airport, she should not be far from Mrs. Talbot's apartment now. Richmond avenue ... Edison street ... Here it was: Carson street, number 132. She found a place to park the car almost in front of the building. Neighborhood was nice. Not rich, rather middle class. Pretty much what she expected after having seen Talbot's house.  
  
She rang at the door and the voice of a woman answered on the intercom:  
  
"- Yes ?  
- Mrs. Talbot ? I am special agent Clarice Starling, from the FBI in Washington. I think you had one of my colleagues on the phone yesterday.  
- Yes. Come in please. I'm on the third floor."  
  
Starling pushed the door and climbed up the stairs. Just as she arrived, the door of one of the apartments opened and the ex-Mrs Talbot appeared in the entrance. The file said she was forty two, but she looked younger.   
  
Mrs. Talbot let her in and led her to the living room. It was staffed mainly with modern furniture. Rather impersonal, but functional. A little boy was playing with cars on the couch. Geena Talbot had a look at her son.  
  
" - My daughter refuses to get out of her bedroom." she said. "She was very close to her father. She suffered a lot from the divorce.  
- I understand." Starling responded. Though she doubted an answer was requested.  
  
Geena looked at her; her face was deprived of any emotion. She was passed that.  
  
" - I think it would be better to talk in the kitchen." she said, silently designating the child. "That is, if you don't mind of course.  
- No problem."  
  
They moved to the kitchen. Geena poured coffee into two mugs and they sat at the table.  
  
" - I know it's not the perfect moment Mrs. Talbot" Starling started "and I will try to make it as short as possible. But there are a few things we need to know about your husband.  
- You can call me Geena."  
  
Starling offered a poor smile and nodded.  
  
" - From what you know, Geena, did your husband - sorry, ex-husband ...  
- It has no importance now. Victor and I had maintained good relationships. You can call him my husband if it makes it easier.  
- Did your husband have known enemies ? People that resented him for a reason or another ?  
- I don't believe so. Victor was easy to be with. He did not talk much about his job though. I don't know if there were tensions there. And if there had been, he would probably not have told me ... Especially now.  
- He was a chemical engineer, wasn't he ?  
- Yes. He was leading a research team at Branston Chemical.  
- Is this why you moved to Washington ?  
- Yes. We moved about five years ago. We were both from Denver, but Victor got a good opportunity and we decided to give it a try."  
  
She paused for a few seconds.  
  
" - Victor had his job, but I never really got used to it. After the divorce, I decided to come back.  
- He had friends in Washington ?  
- Mainly Eddy. Edward Manson. They had been to university together. Eddy moved to Virginia ten years ago. Quantico. He's with the FBI too." Starling raised an eyebrow. "Victor and Eddy lost contact for a few years but met again when we moved. They quickly became best friends. Otherwise, merely acquaintances. It took him time to make friends.  
- Did he still have family in Denver ?  
- No. his parents died in a car accident when he was twenty. They were his only family."  
  
Starling was writing down every piece of information.  
  
" - Do you know if he was practicing any sport ?  
- Jogging. He ran five miles every morning. No matter where he was, or the weather.  
- Any particular hobby, or regular occupation ?  
- He did not have much time for that. He did a little modeling when he was younger. Mainly planes models."  
  
The conversation went on for another two hours. Starling was looking for any information that could help her knowing better the late Victor Talbot. When she had no more questions, she pulled out an envelope from the chest pocket or her vest. She took from it the picture of the little boy they had found in Talbot's wallet.  
  
" - Geena, have you ever seen this child before ?"  
  
She did not answer immediately. Instead, her dark eyes stared at Starling. She seemed to hesitate for a second, then:  
  
" - It was the Daffodil killer, wasn't it ?" she asked  
" - We have no certainty yet." Starling answered. How can one lie to a widow ? She wondered. Dealing with families was for sure the part of her job she hated most. "But it could be, yes.  
- Why Victor ?  
- I don't know. We don't know yet how he chooses his victims."  
  
Geena looked at the photo, took it from Starling's hand. After a while, she gave it back.  
  
" - Never seen before." she said. "Neither in Denver nor in Washington. But I was no more involved in Victor's life in the last two years. Maybe the children ... Peter ?  
- Yes mom.  
- Can you come here, honey ? "  
  
After a few seconds, the boy showed up at the kitchen door, immediately followed by his sister.  
  
" - Clarice here is gonna show you a picture. I want you to look at it carefully and tell us if you have seen the boy before."  
  
Starling handed the picture. The two kids came closer and looked at it. They both nodded negatively.  
  
" - Thanks, my loves.  
- Has it something to do with dad's death ?" the girl asked.  
" - They don't know, honey".  
  
The girl took his brother's hand.  
  
" - I'm gonna have Peter take his bath now if you want mom.  
- Thanks."  
  
The two children left the room. Starling stayed ten minutes more with Geena to give her details about the procedure to transport her husband's body back to Denver. Then she left, but not before having promised she would let her know about any news on the case.  
  


* * *

  
Starling sat in her rented car and closed her eyes. Images flooded back to her mind. The officer who came to announce to her the 'accident' of her father, his room in the little county hospital, the morgue, the funeral ... where no one from the mayor's office showed up.  
  
She felt a headache was coming. But she could not let herself go yet. She still had to write and send her report to Price. She knew him well enough now to know he wouldn't leave the office before he received it. And he would probably want to discuss it with her after he read it.  
  
She started the engine and headed towards the hotel one FBI assistant had booked for her. The traffic was light and she arrived there in less than ten minutes.   
  
At the reception desk, she filled the registration form and got her key. As she was about to enter the elevator, the clerk called her back.  
  
" - Oh, Miss Starling ! I almost forgot ! You received a message." He handed her a little yellow envelop. She opened it and read:  
  
The choice of the victims seems desperately random, doesn't it Clarice ?  
But what if it really was ! Random, I mean.  
  
  
Her heart beat suddenly accelerated. She turned back to the reception employee.  
  
" - How did this arrive ?" she asked rather abruptly.  
" - Let me see ..." The man opened his registry and let his finger run on the page." Here it is. It was a phone call. At 2:30 pm. Yes, I remember it now. I took the call myself.  
- Did the person identify himself ?  
- No. I asked but he answered you would understand who he was.  
- Male or female ?  
- He was a gentleman." he answered, slightly shocked. "With some education, I should add.  
- Thank you."  
  
She grabbed her bag and climbed to her room. As soon as she was in, she locked the door and took the phone. She dialed Price's office number and waited for him to answer. "Come on, pick-up the phone." she whispered.  
  
" - Michael Price.  
- Good evening sir, Starling speaking.  
- Oh Starling. I was not expecting your call so early. How was your day in Denver ?  
- Was OK so far, sir. As a matter of fact, I have not completed my report yet. I think I can send it to you within two hours.  
- Fine with me.  
- I just wanted to ask you one question.  
- What is it ?  
- Who knew I was going to Denver sir ?  
- What ?  
- Yesterday evening you ordered me to Denver. Brad was there. Somebody in the Bureau booked the hotel for me. Apart from the four of us, did anyone else know I would be here, in this hotel tonight ? I know this may sound odd, but I need to know sir.  
- Well, unless specified otherwise, all agents trips are registered into the database. Any accounting department employee could access the file. Then, we did not take particular precautions ... I guess Lucy - she booked the hotel - may have talked about it. And of course the hotel employee who took the reservation. Maybe Davenport told his wife ..."  
  
Starling' s brain was running at full speed, trying to make out an explanation. After about ten seconds, Price broke the silence: "What is it Starling ?" he asked. His voice was soft. Clarice hesitated, then decided to inform him about the note.  
  
" - I'm not sure this is important sir but ...  
- Maybe if you tell me I can help you decide.  
- Yeah ... When I arrived at the hotel tonight somebody had left a message for me.  
- A message ? What kind of message ?  
- The 'anonymous' kind." She told him about her conversation at the reception desk and then read the note for him.  
  
" - And that's all it said ?  
- Yes. Just that.  
- Any idea who that may come from ?  
- No sir.  
- Unfortunately Starling, our streets are full of people who want to attract attention on them. This guy could just be one of the millions of people who think they are smarter then the FBI.  
- I know sir. It' just that ...   
- What ?  
- It's not the first message I got sir."  
  
Then she told him about the note she had found with her mail the previous evening.  
  
" - I don't want to seem paranoid, but someone delivered a message to my own place yesterday. And then this ...  
- I understand. Did you talk about the case to any friends or relatives ?  
- Well, my private life looks pretty much like a desert these days." She immediately regretted her words, but it was too late to take them back.  
" - I see. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna try to contact Davenport and Lucy while you work at your report. See if they talked to anybody about your trip. I'll call you back after.  
- Thank you sir."  
  
Starling hung up. While her computer started she opened the mini bar and took one of the little bottle of whisky. She sure could use a stiff drink.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	3. Forensic Identification Program

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 3: Forensic Identification Program  
  
" - Professor Lanterbach ! Professor, please may I have a word with you ?" The young man was running on the campus yard to catch up with his professor. He had been waiting for him for half an hour and almost missed him. The elder man finally heard him, stopped and turned back to him.  
  
" - Mr. Williamson ! May I ask you what makes you run so fast his morning ? You did not accustom me to such haste and enthusiasm.  
- Good morning sir. I was wondering if I could talk to you before the class started.  
- Why not. But I suggest we talk while walking. We would not like to be late for the class, would we ?  
- Yes. I mean no. Well yes for the walk and no for being late.  
- I see. What if you told me what it is you have on your mind now."  
  
They started to walk towards the new university building.  
  
" - It's about the essay you asked us to write sir.  
- And what about it ?  
- I know the deadline is tomorrow ... but I wonder if ... well, I wonder if you would accept to grant me a little delay.  
- And why should I do such a thing ? The fact that I appreciated your previous work does not give you any special privilege, Mr. Williamson.  
- I know sir, I know. It's just that ... I'm having difficulties.  
- What kind of difficulties, may I ask ?  
- I've been working sir. I promise I've been working hard. But I've been stuck on the last chapter for two weeks. I just can't figure out how to bring the end. I've written eight versions of it, but none that satisfies me.  
- A good ending is the key to a good story, young man.  
- I know. You taught me that. I think I've got a good piece, but I was not able to write an end that matches up."  
  
Lanterbach stopped walking and look at his student in the eyes for a few seconds.  
  
" - I cannot give you additional time Mr. Williamson. But here is what we're going to do. Come to my office after your classes. We'll see if we can do something for this ending problem.  
- Thank you sir.  
- Join your fellow students now. I'll be with you in a minute.  
- Yes sir."  
  
Williamson watched him go away. This man was definitely no ordinary man, he thought. For a moment when he looked at him, he was almost scared by the intensity of his blue gaze: the man had a way to look at you that made you feel naked.  
  
And one second later, the tension was gone ...  
  


* * *

  
Neil Lanterbach had been teaching criminology at the university of West Virginia for about six months now. His course was part of the recently created Forensic Identification Program. His mission was to teach young men and women everything they needed to catch criminals.  
  
Nothing fascinating really. Most of his students would end up in one of the United States law enforcement agencies. But he had to admit he found a few kids with a little more imagination. Who knows ? They might be able to make something decent of their lives. John Williamson was one of them.  
  
For the end of the semester, he asked his class for an essay, the theme of which was 'The Perfect Crime'. The idea was to make them imagine and construct a crime for which the criminal would never be caught by one of their future employers. He liked the irony of it. Though the first result he had already received were not really convincing: in some cases, even the county sheriff would have solved the case without any difficulties. He was expecting more from Williamson, and a few others.  
  
The wind was cold this morning. He pulled the collar of his coat and had a look at the building where his office was. The FIP was located in one of the most recent part of the campus, Evansdale campus. He would have much preferred to work in downtown campus but that was just a detail he could deal with. He entered and went directly to his classroom: another exciting day in the wonderful world of education !  
  
Two days more and holidays would come. He could then dedicate himself to more gratifying activities.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	4. Just a freak ?

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 4: Just a freak ?  
  
Starling had not slept much the night before. The few hours of sleep she managed to get were agitated. In the plane that was taking her back to Washington she thought of the latest conversation she had with Price. He had tried to reassure her, but did not quite made it. When she thought reasonably about the recent events, she admitted the two messages were probably just a bad joke. But there was something about them that left her uneasy. She could not explain what. Just an unpleasant feeling ... the tone he used ... there was something familiar in it ... just as if he'd known her.  
  
At the airport, she got her car back and drove directly to the office. Davenport was supposed to have a talk with Edward Manson, Talbot's FBI friend, this morning. Maybe he had learned something interesting.  
  
When she arrived at her desk, she found a note from Brad, asking her to join him in Price's office as soon as she would be back. She put her jacket on the chair, had a quick look at her e-mail - nothing important - and then headed towards the boss' place.  
  
Davenport was there, along with a younger agent she had already seen around. The name was Ted Wallace.  
  
" - Ha, Starling ! Welcome back." Price said when she entered the room.  
" - Thank you sir.  
- I believe you know Ted ?  
- Yes, we met already. You're from the Behavioral Science Unit, aren't you ?  
- That's right.  
- Ted is here to give us a hand on our profile Starling. I hope you have no problem with that ?  
- Not at all sir. Any help is welcome.  
- It's an honor working with you special agent Starling.  
- Please call me Clarice."  
  
Starling and Wallace spent the rest of the day reviewing the eight murders, and the profile Starling had started to draw.   
  
Working with Wallace was not unpleasant. The man was in his early thirties, maybe two or three years younger than her. He did not have the arrogance of most of his colleagues and had a good brain. He had black hair and green eyes, and could easily be classified in the nice looking category. But he did not seem to get any pride from it.  
  
The job was rather tedious, especially for Starling who had already been through it several times. But there was nothing else to be done right now, and a newcomer on the case might see something that escaped her.   
  
They started in the morning with the first murder, Lilian Trout, a forty eight years old house wife, who had been abducted on a super-market parking lot and found two days later in a nearby wood, with a bullet in the head. The autopsy report showed she had been killed not less than twenty four hours after her disappearing. But no trace of rape, torture or any kind of bad treatment had been found on her body. What did the assassin keep her for, they had no idea.  
  
One of the key rules of serial killers profiling is that getting to know the victims, you get closer to their murderer. In the case of the daffodil killer, they sure had plenty of victims to study. But not even a clue on what they could have in common. Lilian Trout was just an ordinary woman, married, with two sons, the elder studying law at UVA. Her husband had been working in the same bank for twenty two years. They were as clean and clear as a family could be. And yet, someone had decided Lilian Trout had to die.  
  
The other victims were not of much more help either. The closer they got to something 'abnormal' was that the wife of the fourth victim had been portrayed nude in a calendar when she was eighteen. But was that really strange in america these days ?  
  
The only common characteristic between all these people is that they were all white. Serial killers most often operate in their own racial community. The fact that the daffodil killer was white was to be considered with a good probability. Then, there were the murders themselves, and the way they were perpetrated. Even though there was no continuity in the modus operandi, the way most of the victims were killed denoted a rather appalling physical strength. From the first conclusions of his autopsy, Talbot was decapitated while he was standing. Considering the man was 5 ft 7, his murderer must have been at least 6 ft 3, and with the physical building that goes with it.   
  
The axe was nowhere to be found. That implied the assassin had taken it with him when he left. That definitely eliminated the possibility he was traveling by bus or any other public transportation mean: he had to have his own mean of locomotion.  
  
All the murders took place in a range of thirty miles around Washington DC. Could indicate the author was living there, but was not certain. The fact that some of the victims were either kidnaped or killed during the day on week days could make them think the man did not have regular office hours. He could be unemployed, or ruling his own business. But he could also be taking holidays, or even on sick leave.  
  
Starling reviewed with Wallace all the assumptions she had come to in the last weeks. He mainly agreed on the conclusions she had arrived to: they were most probably looking for a white male, more than 6 ft tall, living in the suburb of Washington and owning a car. That left them with only a few millions suspects !  
  
Wallace left her at around 6 pm, with a formidable headache coming up. She swallowed two pills hoping they would give her enough respite to drive home.  
  
She was about to leave when Price showed up in her cubicle:  
  
" - Anything new Starling ?  
- Not really sir. Wallace and I reviewed each of the eight murders, but I'm afraid the result is still very thin.  
- Was worth trying anyway.  
- Sure. Wallace is smart. Can he go on working with us on this case ?  
- I'm currently negotiating for it Starling. Glad you two get along."  
  
Starling let a smile come to her lips. She knew the reputation she had in the FBI not to be someone easy to work with. Price gave an apologizing look.  
  
" - It's OK sir, don't worry. I know what people say.  
- My comment was stupid Starling. I do not have any reason to complain about you so far.  
- Thanks. Did Davenport talk to Manson ?  
- Yes. But he did not really learn anything valuable. Talbot was a good man, a good friend, a loving father, ... this kind of stuff. Brad showed him the picture of the kid but did not have any reaction from it.  
- I see."  
  
They both stayed silent for a moment. Finally Price went on:  
  
" - Clarice, I've been thinking about these 'messages' you received." He very rarely called her by her first name. She sensed he was coming to the real purpose of his visit to her.  
" - Yes ?  
- If I were you, I would not worry so much about them. You know, there has been a lot of publicity around the case. Your name has been mentioned in the news. It's probably just a freak trying to get attention.  
- Probably.  
- You see, it's not as if you were just another anonymous agent." Price was visibly not at ease. " I mean ... people have heard from you in the past. And hearing you were on the daffodil case probably triggered something in one of these jerks' mind.  
- I see what you mean sir.  
- Nevertheless, the guy went to your apartment. And I could easily understand this is not a very pleasant thing to know. So, if you think you'd rather have a little bit of protection there, I can arrange for it."  
  
Starling looked at him, surprised. She sure was not used at someone worrying for her. And apparently, this was what Price was doing.  
  
" - It won't be necessary sir. But thank you for having thought of it.  
- You're sure ?  
- Positively." She smiled at him. " I guess I just have to get used to it: apparently, I have the very special ability to attract freaks ! But it might not be as bad as it looks. By attracting them this way, I might be able to catch one of two. And the FBI could finally get a return on investment !"  
  
Price looked at her intensely. She immediately regretted the last words she said. Even if she was still convinced the Bureau had used her in the Lecter case, Pearsall and Krendler were the ones to be blamed for that. Price got her in his team when no one else wanted to. And since she had worked with him, he always behaved more than correctly.  
  
" - I'm sorry sir. I did not mean ...  
- Starling," he interrupted her before she could finish apologizing." I will obviously never repeat that publicly, but I can understand you have serious doubts about any section chief motivation here. But I want to make sure you have clear why I asked you to come and work with me. It has nothing to do with what the tabloids called your 'special relationship with Hannibal Lecter'. I personally think you did a great job there, considering the circumstances. I believe you are very qualified agent. And it just occurred to me you had been quite under-employed lately. I just hate waste.".  
  
He paused for a few seconds, looking at her straight in the eyes. She did not dare saying a word.  
  
" - You're working here because I was convinced you were more than competent enough to do so. And I did not change my mind since. Do I make myself clear ?  
- Yes sir. I did not want to ...  
- It's OK Starling. We're all tired. Time to go home now ...  
- Yes.  
- And Starling !" She gave him a questioning look. " If you change your mind, about the protection I mean, just let me know.  
- I will sir. But that won't be necessary. I can handle that. Thanks anyway".  
  
He nodded and left her cubicle.  
  
She put her arms on the desk and buried her head in them. How the hell could she be so stupid ! Her real talent was not to attract freaks, but to inevitably fuck up the rare good things that happened to her. It there was an award for the best fumble, she would certainly get the prize every year.  
  
She stood up, grabbed her jacket and left.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	5. A perfect crime

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 5: A perfect crime  
  
It was almost 6:00 pm when John Williamson knocked on Neil Lanterbach' s office door. He had been detained by his Biometrics Systems professor and thought he'd never got rid of him. He was not sure professor Lanterbach would have waited for him, but had decided to try anyway. A mere "Come in" from the other side of the door reassured him.  
  
He pushed the door and entered. The room was dark. The only light was coming form a little green desk lamp diffusing pale rays on the the professor's desk. Lanterbach was busy writing. Judging from the pile of papers on his right, he was apparently correcting some of the essays he had received. After a few seconds, he raised his face towards the student.  
  
" - Ha, Mr. Williamson. Well, come in.  
- Sorry to come so late sir. Professor Sorenson wanted to talk to me after his class and ...  
- It's all right. Don't worry. I was not planning to leave soon anyway. Please, sit."  
  
The young man sat on the chair his elder had shown him.  
  
" - Well, I brought my work. I figured out you would like to read it before you can give me ... advises." he said, handing the pack of paper he had been carrying under his arm. Lanterbach gave him a smile.  
" - Yes. I suppose I'd rather do so." He took the essay and had an eloquent look at its width. " Well, it seems it's going to take me a little time to go through it. I just made tea, would you like some ? Or I may find a soda somewhere if you prefer ?  
- Tea would be great. Thank you."  
  
Lanterbach stood up and went to the little table by the window where a nice silver teapot and fine china cups where laying on a tray.  
  
" - A piece of cake maybe ?  
- No thanks. I'm not really hungry.  
- Too bad. They're really good. You don't know what you're missing, John ... You don't mind my calling you John, do you ?  
- Not at all, sir. Not at all."  
  
Lanterbach handed him his cup of tea and went to sit in a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. He switched on the lamp close to it and started reading.  
  
John started relaxing a bit. Here in his office the man was a little bit less impressive than when he was lecturing. Silence was only interrupted by the sound of paper each time the man turned pages. And he did that pretty rapidly. It took him less than half an hour to read the fifteen pages John had brought him. When he finished the last page, he raised his face, took off his glasses and invited John to join him and sit on the couch in front of him. The young man complied.  
  
" - Well, John. Pretty interesting, I should say. So, your idea of the perfect crime is a man faking his death and having his best friend accused of it ? I'm a bit puzzled. Technically speaking, if I may say so, there is no murder in your story.  
- Topic was the 'perfect crime', sir. Not the 'perfect murder'. And if the man gets executed, I believe that 'technically', it could be considered as a murder." Lanterbach had a smile.  
" - Yes. I suppose it could. A murder perpetrated publicly, with no chance anyone would ever investigate it."  
  
Lanterbach put the essay on the table in front of him and looked at John straight in the eyes. He remained silent only a few seconds but that was long enough to make the young man uncomfortable again. When he started to talk again, the intensity of his gaze had disappeared and his voice sounded lighter.  
  
" - I must confess I'm impressed, young man. Pretty good job indeed. It's original, well written and there are a few passages that could easily be qualified as thrilling.  
- Thank you sir.  
- You're bright, John. And a talented writer. Have you ever considered making a career of it ?" John looked at him, both surprised and flattered.  
" - Not really sir. Frankly, I do not think I'm up to the task. Besides, if I was as good as you say, I would have been able to finish it, wouldn't I ?"  
  
Lanterbach stood up and started laughing at the boy's last remark. He moved behind Williamson and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
" - Never underestimate your abilities my friend. Humbleness is a vain quality, believe me. So, why don't you tell me what causes you such difficulties with the ending.  
- Well ..." John was looking for a way to phrase it without looking like a perfect idiot. For reasons he could not explain, he did not want to disappoint the man. He had always been a very good student and already received compliments from his teachers on many occasions, but in this moment, though he could not say why, the opinion of Lanterbach mattered to him more than the one of anybody else. There was something about the man that was different. " I know it may sound ridiculous, but ... It's about the main character. What does he do next ? I have imagined a series of scenario where he would fly to Latin America or other places in the world. I've even thought of plastic surgery. But ...  
- But ?  
- I don't know. It's too obvious. It's like ...  
- Like what anybody else would expect him to do ?"  
  
Lanterbach was standing behind him and he could not see his face. But he could feel his eyes on the back of his head, as if he was reading his very mind. That did not scare him though. Strangely, it made him feel more comfortable. He nodded to Lanterbach' s last comment.  
  
" - And your 'hero', so to speak, would not do something so common, would he ?" Lanterbach asked.  
" - No.  
- I see. Let's see if we can find out what he would do then." His voice had become deeper. " Why do you think he did all this in the first place ?  
- What do you mean ?  
- You know what I mean John. Try and concentrate now. Why did he trap his best friend in such a plot ?  
- Well, his so-called 'best friend' was going to bed with his wife. I think it's a reason.  
- He could have got a divorce instead of simulating his own death. Would have been a lot simpler, don't you think ?  
- He wanted the man to pay for his treason.  
- Come on John. I know you can do better than a sordid story of revenge.  
- He wanted the man to suffer. To experience what pain really is.  
- You're getting closer. But what does he get from it ? What makes his friend's suffering worth it ?"  
  
John was starting feeling warm. Much too warm for the temperature of room. But it did not alarm him. In fact, he was feeling good.  
  
" - He wants to see him suffer." He said, as if the idea had just come to his mind. " He wants to see him. He wants to be there and watch." He paused. Lanterbach now had put both his hands on Williamson' s shoulders.   
" - Yes ? Is that what he wants ?  
- And he wants the man to know. Yes, all this only makes sense if the victim knows.  
- Umh. Sounds rather logical to me.  
- Logical ?  
- So to speak." Lanterbach' s voice was soft again. It had lost the intensity it had a few moments ago. " Obviously I would disagree with such a behavior, but it seems coherent with the rest of your story.  
- I guess it is. I guess he would like to attend to the execution. It would not be perfect otherwise. He has to be there.  
- And he has to make sure his victim knows he's there, don't you think ?  
- Yes."  
  
Lanterbach released the pressure on John's shoulder and went back to sit at his desk. He looked at the young man with a smile and said:  
  
" - Well, I believe you have your ending now John !  
- Yes, sir. I ... I don't know how to thank you.  
- Don't bother. It has been a pleasure. Occasions to have an interesting conversations are rather rare. Coming back to more practical issues, do you thing your reputation would suffer from sharing a dinner with an old professor ?"  
  
Williamson looked at him puzzled. An invitation was the last thing he expected.  
  
" - Or maybe you had other plans for the evening. Don't worry, a refusal will not offend me, and you don't have to provide a reason either.  
- No. It's just that ... I did not expect this. But yes, I think I would like it, sir.  
- Good. I just have one thing to finish here. We could meet downstairs in, let's say, ten minutes. Would that be all right ?  
- Yeah. I'll just get to my room to leave the essay. I can be back in ten minutes.  
- See you then."  
  
Lanterbach watched Williamson leave the office quickly. The kid was bright, no doubt about it. He just needed to have a little bit more self confidence, but that would come, with time ... and a little help.  
  


* * *

  
They had had dinner in a little italian restaurant ten minutes from the campus. The conversation had been light and pleasant, mostly focused on the university. Williamson had found his professor a very charming companion and, taken by the awkwardness of the situation, had not realized he had been doing most of the talking, the older man mainly listening to him with a comprehensive smile on his face. They were now appreciating a glass of nice cognac. Lanterbach had offered him a cigar and, though he was not used to it, he had accepted. It was almost midnight and the restaurant was slowly getting empty. Lanterbach had a sip of cognac and looked at him:  
  
" - So tell me, John, I suppose you have plans for the coming holidays ?  
- Well, really, I haven't thought of it yet. I was rather busy lately did not have time to decide what I'm gonna do with myself.  
- Really ? I guess you're going to go back to your family. You're from Michigan I believe ?  
- Michigan, yes. But I don't think I'm gonna pay it a visit this time. Besides, I don't think my 'family' as you called it, is expecting me in any way.  
- How would that be ?"  
  
John Williamson never spoke of his family. But the nice atmosphere of the dinner, plus the chianti and the cognac had made him less reluctant to talking.  
  
" - To be honest, I don't even know where I can find my 'family'. My parents are divorced, you see. They both got re-married a couple of times and usually don't remain in the same place more than one year. Actually, I think my mother is in Europe right now. As for my father, he probably went skiing somewhere in Vermont with my half brothers.  
- I see. It must be difficult for a young man like you not to have a place to call home.  
- Bah, not really. I guess it would be if I ever had one. But one does not miss what one does not know."  
  
As he read doubts in Lanterbach' s eyes, he went on:  
  
" - Believe me. I'm all right with that. What about you sir, do you have children ?  
- No. I travel a lot. I am rather of the 'restless kind' you see. So, I figured out it would not be suitable conditions to bring up children properly.  
- Somebody should have explained that to my folks !"  
  
The two men started laughing together. After a moment, Lanterbach went on:  
  
" - I was thinking ... Do not hesitate to tell me if I'm out of context but ...  
- Yes ?  
- Umh. I just wondered if you would be by any chance looking for a job.  
- A job ?  
- Nothing much really. But, I may need an assistant for a work I have to do, and I was thinking of placing an offering on the university bulletin. Obviously, I would much prefer someone I already know and appreciate. So ...  
- Are you serious ?  
- Of course. What sounds so strange about it ?  
- Nothing. It's just ... I just can't believe in my good fortune tonight: in a few hours, I got to have an ending for my essay, a wonderful dinner in a nice restaurant, and now a job offering. I just wonder what I did to deserve this ! "  
  
Lanterbach took his time to answer.  
  
" - Not even a clue ? Well, having written a bright essay could be one thing. Being a nice dinner companion could be another one. And ... Luck ? Never underestimate the power of luck, John. Believe an old man experience: seize luck when it passes, or someone else will."  
  
A broad smile had illuminate his face with his last words. His dark blue eyes were sparkling with mischief. John burst out laughing:  
  
" - First of all, you're not an 'old man'. And second: I'll seize my luck. I accept the offer, but do not believe I don't know there something hidden behind all this !  
- I'll drink to that !"  
  
  
Lanterbach gave his companion a ride to the campus, then went directly home. He opened the door of the little cottage he had rented for a one year period, all paid in advance. The house was well below his usual standard, but with a little effort on the interior decoration and some imagination he had managed to make it acceptable. At least for a while.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	6. Intertwined dreams

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 6: Intertwined dreams  
  
When Starling got home and checked her mail that evening, she did it with much apprehension. But then, when she had made sure no new message had been delivered, she was almost disappointed. "More than one assassin", "Random choice of victims", it did not make sense. Did not fit in the picture. She opened the fridge and to a can of beer. Maybe they were so desperately dry on this case she would accept any hint, whoever it may come from.  
  
She thought again of her last conversation with Price and hoped she hadn't screwed up everything with him.  
  
She prepared herself a light dinner and ate it while watching the evening news. Then she spent one hour on the phone with Ardelia - who for the thirteenth time in the last six month wanted to dump Brian ... These two were made for each other. Then she decided she had had enough for one day and went to bed.  
  


* * *

  
Neil Lanterbach went to his living room and turned on the stereo. The first chords of Samuel Barber's Adagio started filling the room. He helped himself a glass of fine brandy, took off his shoes and laid on the couch. Using the remote control, he programmed the alarm of the stereo for 3:30 am. He had to leave early for his little trip to Washington DC if he wanted to be back in time for his afternoon class. Then he let the music invade his mind and slowly drive him to sleep, hoping his dreams would take him to her ... and hers to him.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice woke up suddenly. It took her ten seconds to fully exit from her dream and realize where she was. She had a look at the clock on her bedside table: 3:30. Her body was covered with sweat. She sat on her bed and wiped her face with her hands. "God, what a dream !" She had spoken aloud. It seemed so real.  
  
She quickly looked around. Everything was quiet in the room. Not a noise. Her old bedroom. "Dr Lecter," she thought " when are you going to leave me alone ?". It had been at least six months she had not dreamt of him. In the first weeks after the night at the lake house, what happened had haunted her almost every night. But then the nightmares had become rarer, and finally disappeared. And now ...  
  
The dream was different though. She could hardly call it a nightmare. She was in Florence, walking the streets with hundreds of other tourists. And Hannibal Lecter was walking by her side, holding her elbow gently, showing her the beauties of the city. Though she had never been in Italy, the vision of the places was so clear it gave her a chill. It seemed so real.  
  
She laid back in her bed, eyes wide opened, looking at the ceiling. She had to get back to sleep, or she would be a rag in the morning. Clarice Starling curled up on her side and closed her eyes. Ten minutes later she was sleeping, a smile on her face.  
  


* * *

  
Neil Lanterbach was already awake when the alarm rang. He stood up and went to take a shower. He put on a pair of old jeans and a blue shirt. It was not even 4:00 when he started the engine of his black BMW.  
  
The town was still asleep and he did not encounter any car before he reached the interstate. He sat more comfortably in the car seat and turned on the CD player. He had three hours of driving to reach Washington. He would be on time.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had felt back to sleep and did not hear the alarm of her clock when it rang at 6:00. Instead, she woke up half an hour later - half an hour too late. She jumped out of her bed swearing and rushed to the bathroom. She hated to be in hurry in the morning, but it was happening more and more often. When was the last time she could take a real breakfast before going to work, she did not even remember.  
  
She grabbed a doughnut in the kitchen and went out.  
  


* * *

  
He saw her coming out of the building at 7:30 sharp. She was late. She put her doughnut between her teeth while finishing putting on her jacket. "Clarice, " he said for himself " you should take better care of yourself. What kind of breakfast is that, umh ?".  
  
She ran more than walked to her car, and two seconds later she was gone. He had parked his car on the other side of the street. He waited till she had turn at the corner and then started behind her. He had no hurry. He knew where she was going, and he could follow her daily itinerary with his eyes closed.  
  
The traffic got denser as they approached the city downtown. On a few occasions he got close enough to see her eyes in the rear mirror of her car. He knew she was far too busy trying to find a way in the traffic to notice him.  
  
When she finally turned left to enter the FBI premises parking lot, he went on straight, giving a last look at her car. 7:58. She had made it in the end. He parked his car three blocks away, a little after the post office he had spotted during his last visit. He made sure his car could not be seen from the inside and entered. It had just opened and only one woman was in the queue before him.  
  
When his turn came, he handed the clerk a sheet of paper and gave her a fax number. He gave a smile to the lady behind the counter but she did not respond. She sure would not remember him in two minutes. He signed the receipt as John Starling and paid two dollars for the fax. He went out naturally, got to his car and left. He still had time. After having turned around the next block, he was back in front of the post office, but on the other side of the broad avenue. He parked. From where he was, he had a perfect view on both the FBI building and the post office. But the probability someone could notice him was close to zero.  
  
The whole operation had not taken ten minutes.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	7. Think, Clarice !

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 7: Think, Clarice  
  
Starling sat on her chair and let her purse fall down next to it. She definitely hated these morning rushes. But she had made it !  
  
She turned on her computer. She had to adjust a few things in the case files after the discussions she had with Ted Wallace the day before. But first she decided to check her email. The only interesting one was from Ardelia. She was informing her friend that after a good night of thinking, she had decided to stay with Brian. Clarice smiled.  
  
She opened her files and started to re-read her nodes. She had been working for about ten minutes when her fax machine started to cough. She gave it a lazy look and went on typing: this God damned machine was so slow one could die watching it. When the noise finally stopped, she laid her harm and caught the one page message. She kept it in her hand while checking what she had just written and then finally started to read:  
  
Things are not always as significant as they seem, Clarice.  
Why don't you get yourself a copy of Newsweek Magazine of January 11th, 1972, and have a look at page 32.  
  
This time, Starling did not loose her calm. As if she had been expecting it. " Here you are, my friend !". She put the 'Print Receipt' button on her fax machine and ten seconds later she had the number from which the fax was sent. She took her phone and dialed an internal number. "Nick ? Starling speaking ... Fine, thank you, and you ? ... Great. Tell me, I took down a fax number in my notebook but I don't remember why or who it corresponds to, could you tell me that ? ... Yeah, hold on" She gave him the number and waited for one minute. " Ha yeah. I remember now. Thanks Nick. Send my love to Nora and the kids".  
  
The post office on Rikers avenue. You smart ass. She put the fax in her purse and headed towards the elevator. Two minutes later, she entered the post office. She passed before the people waiting and showed her credentials to the clerk.  
  
" - Clarice Starling. FBI." The lady did not look impressed. " Somebody came this morning and sent a fax from this office. Do you remember him ?  
- Do you have an idea of how many people come here everyday ?  
- How many faxes were sent in the last half an hour ?  
- Let me see ... Three so far.  
- Do you keep a receipt for each operation ?  
- Of course we do !" Now she was offended.  
" - Could I see the ones of this morning ?  
- I'm sorry but I cannot take such a responsibility. Let me call Mr. Saunders. You will discuss it directly with him."  
  
Starling had to wait twelve minutes and show a sense of diplomacy she didn't even know she had before being authorized to have a look at the receipts. She rapidly found what she was looking for. "John Starling. OK, you got me this time." she said to herself. She got out and took one minute to think of her next move, totally unaware of the pair of eyes that were fixing her from the other side of the street.  
  


* * *

  
" And now what , Clarice ? " He could not detach his eyes from her fine silhouette. "Come on my dear. I drove three hours in the night to help you. Don't let me down now. Think, Clarice" He saw her take the sheet of paper from her bag and read it. "That's it. Read it. Now, where does it lead ?". She folded the page and kept it in her hand. She started to run back to the FBI building.  
  
"All right little Starling. I knew I could count on you." He had to go now. It was already nine and his students were expecting professor Lanterbach at 14:00 in his classroom.  
  


* * *

  
Starling went directly to the library on the first floor of the building. She'd heard it had one of the biggest collection of press issues in the country. If she had to find a Newsweek issue of thirty years ago, this was the place.  
  
She showed her badge at the entrance and explained what she was looking for. A young employee showed her to the section where she was more likely to find it. The reputation of the place was an understatement. Twenty three galleries thirty feet long with newspapers and magazines from floor to ceiling. Wasn't gonna be a walk in the park !  
  
In fact, it took her thirty five minutes and the help of the employee just to understand how things were organized. And then another hour and a half before she finally found what she had come for. "You bastard, if you made me do all this for nothing, I swear I will find you and make you pay for it" she thought while getting down the ladder. As soon as she was down, she opened the magazine and looked for page 32.  
  
When she found it, she had to sit on the floor not to fall. On page 32 of the issue of January 11th, 1972 of Newsweek was an ad for a toothpaste. At the center of the page, was the photo of a kid smiling. The same photo they had found on each and every victim of the daffodil killer.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	8. No coincidence

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 8: No coincidence ...  
  
Clarice looked at the photo for a long moment to convince herself she was not dreaming. Then her brain started racing.  
  
First, the picture was the one element they never talked about to the media. Nobody knew, except the investigators, and not even all of them. Price could say what he wanted: whoever was sending her these messages was not just a fool who wanted to play with the FBI. He knew a lot more about the case; maybe more than themselves. He may even know the killer.   
  
Another possibility of course was that the killer himself was writing to her. This particular kind of psychopaths who desperately want to be caught. Or one of these criminals who think they are far too clever for the police to catch them, even with all the clues available.  
  
But why was he writing to her. Why among the twenty or so investigators working on the case had he chosen Clarice Starling ? Because she was one of the very few women involved ? Not likely. The crimes had absolutely no sexual component. No, there had to be another reason. For sure she had had her moment of fame eleven years ago when she saved senator Martin' s daughter; and then when a certain kind of press started to talk about her relationship with Hannibal 'the cannibal' Lecter. But after what happened last year, her popularity dramatically decreased. She had almost been fired from the FBI after the death of Paul Krendler and the Bureau had tried its best to have her forgotten since.  
  
Her second thought was about the messages themselves. If her secret friend had such a knowledge of the murders and the murderer, it could be a good idea to start considering the content of his letters. Till now, she had only been concerned about the identity of her correspondent, paying no attention to what he said. It was high time she changed her approach of the matter. She had lost two days already. "Starling, move !"  
  
She went back to the counter of the library and registered to borrow the copy of the magazine. Then she went back to her office. She retrieved the first two messages from her drawer and arranged them on her desk, along with the one she had just received and the copy of Newsweek. Then she opened a new file on her computer and started to type:  
  
1. More than one killer  
  
2. No logic in the choice of the victims  
  
3. Things not as significant as they seem  
??? WHAT is not significant ?  
- The picture of the kid was just taken from a magazine  
- It was not even illustrating a news article, but just an ad  
- Means there are probably no personal relationship between the killer and the kid  
Then WHY leave it on the victims ?   
  
She looked at her screen for a long moment. Then she added:  
  
Just for the show ? A staging ?  
He is playing with us ? Or are THEY playing with us ?  
  
We've been looking for a logic, for connections, for motives. But if there weren't any ? If the only purpose was the crime itself ... kill people without being caught ... no motive, no link, no continuity ... the perfect crime ?  
  
She knew the perfect crime did not exist. They always committed a mistake sooner or later. But how many people would be dead before the first error ?  
  
She put her hand in her hair and laid back in her chair. That did not fit: a man - or a group of men - killing people as a game, as a challenge, and then giving her the clues to understand what they were doing ? People in search of the perfect crime did not want to be caught. And that did not fit with the psychopath version either.  
  
Then someone - someone else - knows who they are and what they have done, and wants to stop them. But why not go simply to the police or to the FBI ? Why not turn them in ? Why write to her ?  
  
She read again the first message. Why write to her personally ? Calling her by her first name as if they were old friends. Or were they ? Does he know her, the messenger that is ? Someone who knows her, wants to stop the hecatomb but for some reasons cannot go to the police ?  
  
So many questions, and not even one answer. Clarice felt the headache was coming back. she had a look at her watch: 7:30 pm ! She had spent the whole afternoon playing with hypothesis. She just realized she had not told anyone about her findings. She had to see Price.   
  
She gathered the messages and printed her notes. When she arrived at the third floor, Price' s secretary was leaving.  
  
" - Good evening Lucy. Is the boss alone ?  
- He's not here, Clarice. He's left early today. He flew to New York in the afternoon. Big bosses meeting tomorrow there.  
- Means he won't be in tomorrow either ?  
- Well, he should come back end of the afternoon. He told me he would drop by. Anything wrong ?  
...  
- Clarice ?  
- Umh ? No, thanks Lucy. I need to talk to him, but it can wait till tomorrow.  
- I can tell him you want to see him when he's back if you want ?  
- Yeah. Thanks. That would be great.  
- No problem.  
- Bye Lucy.  
- Good bye."  
  
Clarice watched Lucy go. Should she tell anyone else ? Though the real question was: did she trust anyone else enough to tell him ? She decided she would wait.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	9. One good cook

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 9: One good cook  
  
" And this concludes the first part of our journey together towards Knowledge. I remind those who have not done it yet that they have to leave their essay on my desk before going. Let me wish you and your families a pleasant Easter holiday." The students started to stand up and progressively leave the amphitheater. Some of them stopped by his desk to let him their work. A few eventually wished him good holidays, to which he would reply with his usual courtesy.  
  
Lanterbach could not help noticing Williamson slowly packing his things in the back of the classroom. He was visibly waiting for his fellows to leave them alone. After the general confusion had finally come to an end, he approached the platform.  
  
" - Good afternoon sir" He put his essay on the top of the pile. " This one is finished now.  
- Mr. Williamson ! So, satisfied with the ending ?  
- I think so. Then you will tell me.  
- I will, John. I will. So, have you finished your semester ?  
- Not yet sir. I still have a couple of lessons tomorrow. Then it will be over.  
- Fine. We still have to talk about this little job I mentioned to you yesterday. That is, if you're still interested of course.  
- Certainly sir.  
- Why don't you join me for dinner then ? Or maybe two evenings in a row in my company would be too much."  
  
John chuckled.  
  
" - I think I can handle it sir.  
- I'm sure you can. I just meant you may have plan to enjoy the company of people your age.  
- I ... I don't get along very well with people my age. And ... " he hesitated a bit " ... in fact, I waited for the others to go because I wanted to thank you for yesterday. But especially tell you I really appreciated the evening."  
  
Lanterbach looked at him with an ounce of astonishment in his eyes.  
  
" - Thank you John. Really, I'm touched.  
- It's only the truth, professor.  
- Here is what I suggest." He took a piece of paper from the desk and a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. Then wrote a few words and handed the paper to John. " This is my personal address, in Morgantown. It's not difficult to find, you'll see, but I also wrote my phone number, just in case you get lost. Shall we say 8:00 pm ?  
- It's perfect sir. I will be there.  
- Good. Then see you tonight."  
  


* * *

  
John Williamson rang the door bell at 8:00 pm sharp. The door opened almost immediately. Lanterbach had changed to a comfortable pair of tweed trousers and a woolen shirt. John was welcome by a large smile.  
  
" - You're very punctual, John. I appreciate that.  
- I try to be, sir.  
- Please, come in."  
  
John entered the little hall. " Let me take your coat" Lanterbach said. He hung it on the peg. "Come in the living room and make yourself comfortable." He noticed the young man was still a little tense. " This is no formal dinner, John." he said while they were moving inside. "Do you think you could relax a bit ?". John gave him a poor smile.  
  
" - I'll try, sir. But I can't guarantee anything.  
- Why don't you stop calling me 'sir' for a start. As odd as it may sound, even university professors have a first name. Mine is Neil.  
- That one ain't gonna be easy.  
- All right. One thing at a time then. What would you like to drink ?"  
  
The quite simple question seemed to embarrass Williamson. He sighed.  
  
" - I'm sorry, sir. I know I look like a dummy. The thing is that I'm really not used to this kind of things and ... I want to make a good impression on you, but the more I try the more I make a fool of myself. I should know what kind of drink to ask in society, but I don't. I usually drink sodas and ...  
- It doesn't matter, John. I understand. I was not always the well mannered socially evolved animal you can see now, you know.  
- Rather difficult to believe, sir."  
  
Lanterbach chuckled.  
  
" - Perhaps I can be of assistance. I believe I have soda in the refrigerator, or I could make you taste something different. Would you trust me for selecting your drink ?  
- Hundred percent.  
- Then, I suggest we start with a glass of this excellent Dom Perignon 1951 - one of the finest years in my opinion.  
- All right."  
  
John sat on the couch and accepted the glass of champagne Lanterbach handed him.  
  
" - You're doing fine, John. And I'm sorry that you don't feel at ease. I am not trying to impress you, I swear. So, you don't have to impress me either. Try not to consider this as a 'social event', as they say. Think of it as a new experience ... Who knows, you could even enjoy it at the end !  
- I do enjoy it, sir.  
- Good ! I'll drink to that. Cheers.  
- Cheers" They both took a sip. "It's good.  
- Yes, it is. Now, would you excuse me for a minute: I have to finish fixing the dinner.  
- Of course.  
- I won't be long."  
  
Once he was alone, John started having a closer look at his surroundings. From the outside, nothing distinguished the house from the others. But the interior was superbly arranged. The couch he was sitting on was of brown undressed leather. Two large matching armchairs were disposed on the other side of an oak coffee table. Behind was the fireplace, where a nice fire was cracking. On the other side of the room was a long Chippendale dinner table. Though John didn't know much about art, he guessed the paintings on the wall were of high value. He particularly liked the watercolor above the mantelpiece. In the library, which was covering a whole wall, among what looked to him as precious books, was a beautiful chess game, carved in Ivory. He looked at it, fascinated by the delicacy of the pieces.  
  
" - Beautiful, isn't it ?" John had not hear Lanterbach come back. He jumped at the sound of his voice. "Sorry John, I did not want to startle you.  
- No. It's OK.  
- I got the game at an auction in Paris. It's chinese.  
- It is magnificent.  
- I think so. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes. I hope you're hungry ?  
- Very much so. In fact, I skipped lunch to finish my essay.  
- By the way, I read it. You really have talent.  
- Did you like the end ?" John's eyes were shining with mischief.  
" - Yeah. Pretty unexpected. Scared the hell out of me !"  
  
They both laugh. " Okey-dokey " Lanterbach said. " Shall we ?" They moved to the table.  
  
Dinner went smoothly. They had a consommé of asparagus for starter. Then a stew of boar with fresh pasta, fine cheese and a charlotte of blackberries for desert. Fine French wine was served with the meals. They moved to the armchairs to drink their coffee.  
  
" - Where did you learn to cook like that, sir. It was really delicious.  
- Thank you, John. I've always loved cooking. My mother taught me the basics, then I furthered my education during my journeys. Would you like a cognac ?  
- No thanks. I'm not used to drink alcohol, and I think I had enough tonight.  
- Reasonable. I would not like you to have problems driving home tonight."  
  
Lanterbach helped himself a glass of liqueur John could not identify.  
  
" - You appear to me as a very honest young man, John.  
- Thank you.  
- Tell me, how would you react if you came to know that some of your fellow students are ... let's say less honest than you ?  
- I don't quite follow, sir.  
- Imagine you discovered that some students are kind of cheating on their exams. What do you think you would do ?  
- Well, I never quite thought of it. I guess it depends on who they are ... I suppose that if I knew them, I would try to talk to them and convince them to stop.  
- And if you did not know them ?"  
  
John thought for a while.  
  
" - Then I would try to make them know I know. Just to scare them.  
- But you would not turn them in, would you ?" As the young man did not answer, Lanterbach added: "Relax, John. This is not a trap. I do not like sneaks either.  
- I don't think I would, sir. Unless the offense was really serious.  
- And what if it dealt with a real network. I mean people stealing the results and then selling them, let's say on a larger scale ?  
- Then it would be different. They would be violating the law. I think it would be my duty to ...  
- Yes."  
  
Lanterbach paused, as if considering to continue or not.  
  
" - I have a problem, John. I discovered three students of second year have organized a kind of traffic, along with a fourth person external to the university. You will understand that, as a professor, this is not something I cannot tolerate and I should turn them in. But I have no material evidences of it so far. And you can't accuse people without evidences.  
- What exactly are you waiting from me, sir ?  
- Well, I need someone to help me to confound them. I would be immediately spotted would I follow them in certain places, while a student would pass unnoticed.  
- You want me to spy on them ?  
- Yes. Believe me, I would very well have done without this situation. But you see, the Forensic Identification Program purpose is mainly to turn out law enforcement officers. Two of the students are in my class. Then should I let them graduate knowing that they are violating the law ? I've had a few sleepless nights weighting the possibilities. I just cannot let them go on.  
- I understand, sir. And it seems fair to me.  
- But you'd rather not participate to the operation, would you ?  
- I didn't say that.  
- No. But I see I made you feel uncomfortable.  
- Well, I was not expecting such a thing. But I agree on the principal: you cannot let them go.  
- Does that mean you accept the job ?  
- Yes. But there is one condition though.  
- What would that be ?  
- Whatever the outcome, I don't want my role in it to be mentioned.  
- You can count on that, John. Thank you. You can't imagine how difficult it has been to ask you that. Would you like to taste that Armagnac now ?  
- Why not."  
  


* * *

  
One hour later, Lanterbach was again alone in his house. It had been easy, he thought. He was expecting more reluctance from Williamson, but he modestly admitted he had been particularly good in his role of professor Lanterbach tonight. He smiled to himself.  
  
Tomorrow would be another story. Tomorrow he would have to face Clarice, a much more experienced adversary, so to speak. And he would not have the possibility to hide behind Neil Lanterbach either. Tomorrow, he would be himself. Tomorrow, it would be just special agent Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter, a.k.a. Hannibal the Cannibal ... Two old friends ...  
  
The slight feeling of uneasiness it gave him was nothing as compared to the excitement to talk to her again, to look at her in the eyes, to hear the sound of her voice ...  
  
Tomorrow would be the day, and he had to prepare for it ...  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	10. Could it be him ?

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 10: Could it be him ?  
  
Starling was preoccupied when she arrived home that night. She would have much preferred to be able to talk to Price about what she had just discovered. On the other hand, Price was not in and she did not see who she could talk to. She tried to go to bed early but could not find sleep. She got up, settled on the couch and switch on the television. She was zapping from channel to channel, incapable to find a program that could distract her from her thought. The same question came over and over again: who was sending her these messages, and why send them to her ? It was passed two when she finally sank into a heavy sleep.  
  
But though it was well deserved, her sleep was not peaceful. As soon as she lost conscience, images started rising to the surface of her mind. Images belonging to her past. Images she thought had gone forever.  
  
She saw herself back in Baltimore, a young trainee Jack Crawford had sent to confront the 'monster'. She heard Dr Chilton drawing the portrait of a bubbling psychopath. Then she saw Hannibal Lecter standing in his cell the first time she met him, miles away from the image she had of him. She felt the red coming to her cheeks when he emotionally exposed her. She felt the rage. And her tears when she left the hospital.  
  
Then she heard his voice, this metallic voice that made people shiver. But not her. " I'll help you catch him, Clarice." Ho yes, he had it right: she was ambitious. She would have given anything to enter the Behavioral Science Unit. And she did. She gave anything away to him, her most intimate thoughts. She gave him the lambs. "First principle is, Clarice, simplicity ... Everything you need to know is right there in those pages."  
  
She felt his finger touch hers when he gave her back her case file in Memphis. The brief contact almost burnt her.  
  
This last sensation woke her up abruptly. It took her a few seconds to recollect her senses and understand she had been dreaming. She sat on the couch. "Dr Lecter !" she called out. "Dr Lecter, was it you ?" Her eyes were wide opened now and she reviewed the events of the last days. "Could it be possible that he ...". Clarice, you're crazy ! How would he know about the daffodil killer. And even if he did, why the hell would he want to help her ? Not after their last encounter.  
  
Hannibal Lecter ... She knew it was not rational, but the more she thought about it, the more possible it appeared to her. This little game of cat and mouse was so much like him. And also the tone of the notes themselves, this little thing that made them sound familiar to her. She stood up and went to take the messages in her purse. She read each of them several times. Yes, that was possible. She sat back on the couch and started to think.  
  
Of course, that changed a little bit the situation. The series of murders she was working on were not of Lecter. From that she was certain. Definitely not his style. But having a serial killer as informer could in some way be problematic. First of all, she had to understand his motivation. Did he have something to trade for ? And how would she explain that to her boss ?  
  
But the real question that was going back and forth in Clarice Starling' s mind that night was: will I have to meet him again ?  
  
"Damn you Dr Lecter !"  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had not been able to get back to sleep. She spent the rest of her night, and part of the day, weighting the possible moves she could make. Though she obviously had no evidence of it, she was more and more convinced that Hannibal Lecter was his mysterious correspondent.  
  
Price was expected in office at around 5:00 pm and she had to make a decision before.  
  
At noon, she joined Brad Davenport and they had lunch together in a nearby restaurant. Brad briefly told her about the meeting he had with Edward Manson, but very rapidly switch to the crisis his marriage was currently going through. Clarice could not concentrate on the conversation. Her mind was busy with other matters.  
  
In the afternoon, she made some cleaning in her files and electronic mailbox. Ted Wallace dropped by at 3:00 pm and they completed the final version of their common profile.  
  
At 4:00 pm, she had made her decision: she would tell everything she had discovered or assumed to Michael Price.  
  
Than she started waiting ...  
  
It was passed seven when her phone finally rang.  
  
" - Starling.  
- Price speaking.  
- Thanks to call me back, sir.  
- Starling, could you come to my office now ?  
- Sure, I'll be with you in a minute."  
  
Clarice gathered all the documentation she had collected in her bag and moved off.  
  


* * *

  
Starling was pretty much excited when she knocked on the door and entered the office of her boss. Her excitement disappeared instantaneously when she discovered Price was not alone. Two men were occupying the chairs in front of his desk. She did not know the one on her left, but on her right was Clint Pearsall, her ex-boss, the man who had tried to make her quit a few months before.  
  
" - Hello Starling" Pearsall said.  
" - Clarice, thanks for coming. I know it's late but we have to talk to you" Price said. " Take a chair.  
- I think I'd rather stand if it's all right with you, sir.  
- As you want. Starling, this is special agent Peter Malone, and of course you know Clint here.  
- Yes sir.  
- Yeah." Price was visibly embarrassed. " Starling, Peter has just been assigned to the Lecter case. Clint and I had a discussion, and we think you are the person knowing better Hannibal Lecter, and that you could probably give a lot of valuable information to Peter.  
- I have consigned everything I know in the file, sir.  
- I'm sure of that, Clarice. But impressions are sometimes difficult to write down. We think a few informal conversations could be useful and ...  
- What about the daffodil case, sir ?  
- Ho, you go on with that too of course." Price paused for a second as if he hesitated to go on. "Clint is very much aware of the pressure we have on the case, and he has accepted to let Ted Wallace work with us to help you."  
  
So here it was ! They had made a deal: Ted would go on collaborating with them, but in exchange Clarice would have to cooperate with Malone. This is what Price meant when he had talked about negotiation the other day. Clarice felt her blood boiling.  
  
" - Ted will work with us as long as I will be a good girl and work with special agent Malone. That's it, isn't it, sir ?" Pearsall did not say a word but shook his head, as if to say: I told you, Michael, she's out of control. If Clarice had had guns instead of her eyes, Clint Pearsall would have been dead by now.  
" - Don't take it this way, Starling." Price answered. " Cooperation between units is something normal. I don't see wh ...  
- You don't see, sir ?" he voice had become dead cold.  
" - It is an order, Starling.  
...  
- Very well, sir. I suggest agent Malone call me in office tomorrow to organize the first 'working session'. Now, if you don't need me any more ...  
- No. Thank you, Starling."  
  
She was about to leave when Price called her back.  
  
" - By the way, Starling, what was it you wanted to talk to me about ?  
- Nothing important, sir. It can wait till tomorrow.  
- Good night, Starling".  
  
She did not answer, but miraculously managed not to slam the door.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	11. Stowaway

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 11: Stowaway  
  
Starling started up the engine and left the underground parking lot. Her hands were so tightly gripped to the steering wheel that her fingers had turned white. The only feeling going through her mind at this time was pure rage. How could they do this to her ! She punched the wheel in anger " Fuck ! Fuck ! Fuck !". They had traded her ! She did not know Malone personally, but she had heard of him. They said he was an asshole. She was sure Pearsall had done it on purpose: he had chosen the most vicious bastard of his unit to work with her.  
  
It was 11:15 pm and it was raining as hell in Washington. Traffic in the streets was almost inexistent. And it was a good thing because Starling's level of concentration on her driving was lower than ever. If she had not been so busy swearing at Pearsall, she would probably have noticed in her rear mirror the shadow that just went up in the back seat of her car. The man remained silent for a moment, just watching her. Then he decided to let her know ...  
  
" Good evening, Clarice "  
  
Clarice literally jumped on her seat. Though she knew she could never mistake this voice for any other, she had to turn and see to believe it.  
  
The car swerved and hit the pavement on the other side of the street. The shock brought her back to reality and she miraculously managed to recover the car trajectory without further damages. The sound of her passenger hitting the car door did not escape her. But when he started talking again his voice was calm: " May I suggest you keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel, Clarice." All he got for an answer was an assassin look in the mirror.  
  
" - No Clarice. I'm not threatening you. I am just trying to keep the both of us alive a little longer.  
- What the hell are you doing in my car, Dr Lecter ?  
- I am pleased to see you too, Clarice. I just figured out I could have a little chit-chat with an old friend.  
- We're not friends Dr Lecter"  
  
Starling's voice was a mixture of disbelief and anger. He sure had surprised her but she was recovering pretty fast. She was keeping her eyes on the rear mirror trying to capture each of his movements. " It seems to me this light is red, Clarice." he said. " Shouldn't you stop ?". She put her eyes back on the road and threw her whole weight on the brake pedal. The car stopped ten inches before meeting a truck that was crossing her road. The stop was rather brutal. Clarice had her safety belt on but Hannibal Lecter did not. She felt him bump violently against the back of her seat.  
  
" - Dr Lecter, are you OK ?" It took him a few seconds to answer, time necessary to recover his sitting position and regain his composure.  
" - I think I will survive. Tell me Clarice, just out of curiosity, do you always drive this way or am I getting a special treatment ?  
- I usually don't have one of the most wanted criminals on my back seat to distract me.  
- I see. In that case I suppose I should be considered responsible for this little incident.  
- I didn't say t... Oh shut up ! No, it was my fault, only my fault, my greatest fault. Happy now ?"  
  
He did not answer. She saw him massaging his left harm. She was about to ask him again if he was all right when the car behind her started to hoot. " That light is green now, Clarice. I think it's time to go.".  
  
She started again, trying to concentrate on her driving this time. They both remained silent for a while. For God knows what reason, her anger had left her now - she was feeling almost relaxed. "Starling you're crazy !" she thought to herself. "You're the only person I know who feels relaxed with a known cannibal behind her in the car !". She was the one to break the silence first:  
  
" - It's not that I don't enjoy riding silently in the streets of Washington with you, Dr Lecter. But maybe you could tell me what you're doing here ? If only for the sake of the conversation.  
- I thought I told you already, Clarice. I guess in some ways I missed our little discussions. And I thought we could have ...  
- Here ! In my car ? You broke in my car in the parking lot of the FBI - no need to highlight the risks for you - just to chat with me in my car ?  
- Well, I must confess I had the secret hope we could continue this in your apartment.  
- My apartment ! " Clarice' s voice had lost a little bit of her initial calm now. " You must be out of your m..." She interrupted when she realized what she was about to say.  
  
" - Out of my my mind." he finished for her. " Well Clarice, after all I am a psychopath, a criminal, and a cannibal. What did you expect from me ?   
- That's not what I said doctor." Then, after a few seconds: " I never said that.  
- That's true. You never said it. And I'm grateful for that. But, if we think of it in a rational way, this is what I am, isn't it ?"  
  
The question was not requiring an answer. They both knew who he was, and who she was. Instead, she abruptly changed topic.  
  
" - You sent me these messages, didn't you Dr Lecter ?  
- You know I did Clarice. You knew it from the beginning, even if it took you a little time to admit it.  
- You know who he is, don't you doctor ?  
- Let's say I might have some interesting information. And the will to share them. But you can easily understand that in my position, cooperating with the authorities is not so simple.  
- Why ?  
- Why what ?  
- Why would you want to cooperate ? After all, the authorities, as you call them, have been trying for years to put you back behind bars."  
  
He took a little time to answer her last question, as if he was choosing his words.  
  
" I know most people think I have no sense of morale. And I don't blame them Clarice: my actions in the past are definitely not complying with what you would call ethics. But just because my value system is different from yours, it does not mean I don't have one. Which brings us back to the definition of who I am ... or what I am as some would state it. But, believe it or not, the fact that an individual commits a crime does not automatically make him likable to me."  
  
Starling was beginning to feel tired driving in the streets purposelessly. The only sensible thing she should have done was to take him back to the FBI or to the closest police station. She knew that. As she knew she should have been scared to death. But the fact is that she could not turn him in tonight. As she could not feel fear either. And she wanted to know more. And not only about the daffodil case.  
  
" - All right." she said. " This is what we're gonna do. I'm going to take you to my place. There, we will sit down in the kitchen and we will talk. But I will keep my gun with me and you will let me search you for weapons. Any un-proper gesture, and I'll shoot you. You know I will not kill you unless I'm forced to, but I will not hesitate to neutralize you. And believe me, I'm well trained for that. Do I make myself clear ?  
- Perfectly clear special agent Starling.  
- Do these conditions suit you ?  
- They will do.   
- One last thing: when I say it's over, you will leave like a gentleman."  
  
Even in the darkness of the car she could see his smile.  
  
" - Do you want me to sign a written agreement, Clarice ?  
...  
- I did not ask for one, doctor. You never lied to me in the past. I know you are a man of honor and you can keep a promise.  
...  
- Thank you Clarice." he had stopped smiling and when she saw his eyes in the rear mirror, she knew he would not try to betray her. " I will leave when you say so. I promise.  
- Good. Now let's go."  
  
In the ten minutes that it took to get to Clarice' s apartment, none of them said a word. Clarice parked the car at a short distance from her building and by the time she got out of the car and locked it, he was waiting for her by her door. Apparently he had been there before. While she looked for the keys in her purse she asked:  
  
" - Did you deliver the message yourself Dr Lecter ?" He understood what she had in mind and answered accordingly:  
" - No. But I couldn't resist having a look at where you live last time I was in Washington." She looked up at him and he answered her silent question: " From the outside only, I assure you."  
  
She nodded and unlocked the door rapidly. He followed her inside and up the stairs. When they arrived at her apartment she let him go first. Though she did not think he would hurt her, she decided it was a good idea to keep an eye on him. She entered behind him and closed the door. It was only when she switched on the light and he turned back to her that she saw the blood on his temple.  
  
" - What the hell happened to your head !  
- I'm afraid it had a brutal encounter with you car. I honestly believe you should be more attentive when you're driving, Clarice.  
- I honestly believe you should stop creeping into people's car when you're not invited, doctor Lecter.  
- Touché!  
- Take off your coat and follow me."  
  
He obeyed with docility. She took him to the bathroom.  
  
" Sit here." she ordered, showing him the border of the tub. He complied without saying a word. Blood had soaked the collar of his shirt and was still slowly pouring out of the wound. She grabbed a pack of cotton wool and a bottle of alcohol from her medicine chest and started cleaning his temple. The contact of the alcohol made him slightly tense up but not a sound came from his mouth.  
  
" - It's deep." she said after she took a closer look. " You need stitches.  
- I'm afraid going to a doctor right now would not be such a smart move." As she looked at him, visibly not following him he added. " He could ask embarrassing questions.  
- Yeah ... Do you trust me ?  
- Would I be here if I did not, Clarice ?"  
  
She took a little box from the cabinet and opened it. She chose a needle and some thread.  
  
" - OK. Grit your teeth." she said. "This one's not gonna be a piece of cake.  
- Don't worry. I've seen worse."  
  
Clarice was suddenly taken back one year before, in the kitchen of Paul Krendler. She could not help having a look at his left hand. The scar was well visible. He noticed the direction of her look but didn't say anything. "What are a few stitches for a man capable of chopping off his own thumb !" she thought. "OK, let's go !"  
  
It took her almost half an hour to put three stitches on his head. It had been a long time since she had done this and her hand fumbled a few times. But he never complained. He remained silent and quiet during the whole process and, though she was not sure of it, she believed she read encouragement in his eyes. When she finished her sewing work, she dressed the wound and cleaned his face from the remaining blood.  
  
" - I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for your shirt. It's spoiled.  
- Thank you Clarice.  
- Umh. Let's go back to the initial plan now."  
  
They moved to the kitchen and sat down at the little table, facing each other. Clarice had kept her holster with her loaded gun in it. He could not miss it.  
  
" - You have forgotten the searching-me-for-weapons part, Clarice.  
- Do you carry weapons, Dr Lecter ?"  
  
He put his hand to his trousers right pocket. "Slowly" she warned him. He slowed down his movement and as quiet as possible put his harpy on the table. Then he delicately pushed it to Clarice side. She took the knife and put it in her own pocket. "That's all ?" she asked. He nodded. "You will get that back when you leave, OK ?" He nodded again.  
  
" - So Dr Lecter, you said you had interesting information for me ?  
- I believe so. But I need to show you something before. It's in my coat."  
  
She thought for a moment. Then stood up.  
  
" - OK, I'll get it for you.  
- A brown envelope, in the inside pocket.  
- Don't move.  
- I won't"  
  
He watched her leave the room. Even at midnight and in lousy jeans she had a grace he had never seen in any other woman he'd met. Hannibal Lecter put a hand on his forehead. The headache he had experienced since the shock was getting worse by the minute. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the reason why he was there.  
  
She turned back in the kitchen and handed him the envelope. " No it's for you Clarice. Open it please.". She sat back in front of him. In the envelope were a couple of sheets, the kind they use in schools for exams. The upper right part, where usually students write their name had been ripped off. She started to read. Hannibal stared at her in silence for the ten minutes it took her to read it through. She raised her face to him:  
  
" - This is a pretty good description of the third murder, Melanie Prittchard.  
- From what I know, yes. But you certainly have more information than me.  
- Well, if you replace the rose with a daffodil and add the picture of the kid, I would say it is as precise as the FBI report I have in my office."  
  
She put the foils on the table and looked him in the eyes.  
  
" - On the other hand, most of the elements have been published in the press. It wasn't too difficult to reconstruct the action.  
- Did you have a look at the date, Clarice ?"  
  
She didn't look down and continued staring at him.  
  
" - I did, yes. Three days after the murder, and two weeks before the newspapers got involved on the case.  
- The date is real, I did not modify it.  
- But you took off the name. What is that Dr Lecter ?  
- An exercise a student did for his english class.  
- What student ?"  
  
Her voice was soft and calm. Hannibal thought for a moment. To be honest, he had not expected to go this far tonight. He had not think Clarice was ready for a long meeting with him and had more or less planned to leave the envelope on the back seat of her car. But now, sitting in her kitchen, with her eyes deliberately locked on his, he had to make a decision. He had to decide where he was ready to go, what he was ready to tell her and what she was ready to hear. As far as he could remember, Hannibal Lecter had never trusted anybody else with his life. But now was the time to choose. And he knew he would not have a second chance.  
  
She smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with amusement. But when she started to talk again, there was no mockery or irony in her voice.  
  
" - So, here we are again doctor Lecter, aren't we ? Are you going to toy with me the way you did before, giving me clues and watching if I can make something with them ? You might be surprised: I might do better then the first time, you know. I'm no more the little trainee Jack Crawford sent you as a lamb to the sacrifice. But I'm warning you: make a single comment on my shoes and I'll shoot you, OK ?"  
  
There was no trace of resentment or anger in her voice. Reminiscences of a private joke between old friends. Hannibal chuckled. His decision was made. There would be no return.  
  
" - His name is Malcolm Van Basten. He is a student in second year in the Forensic Identification Program at the university of West Virginia.  
- Do you mind if I take notes, Dr Lecter ?  
- Not at all, Clarice. Do what you have to."  
  
He gave her time to take her notebook and pencil. He spelled the name for her and then went on.  
  
" 5 ft 7, caucasian, hair black, eyes brown. He was born in Bandon, Oregon. He will be twenty two in May this year. His parents have a little restaurant by the sea. Humble and honest people ... Officially, Malcolm has no criminal records so far. But he was once caught by the sheriff at the age of thirteen for driving his father's car. There were no accident and the father managed to have the incident not registered in central files. You can find it in local records though. He confessed it spontaneously during his interview for his admission into the Program. The facts were not considered as major and could not compete with the fact that Malcolm is definitely what can be called an intelligent kid. So he was admitted. With a scholarship too."  
  
Clarice looked at him in disbelief. "Memory, agent Starling is what I have instead of a view", she remembered. She did not comment on that, but could not help asking another question:  
  
" - Have you hacked our files, Dr Lecter ?  
- Should I call my lawyer, Clarice ?" he asked smiling. She laughed. Of course he had.  
" - Forget I asked. What do you mean by intelligent, doctor ?  
- Well, I would roughly evaluate his IQ to 130, maybe 135. But Malcolm also has a superiority complex beyond measure. This might be his main weakness. He is convinced he will not be caught because he is smarter than his pursuers. Otherwise he would not have written the piece I let you read. What do you think ?  
- You're probably right. Do you know him personally ?  
- I do.".  
  
Hannibal felt the moment of truth had come.  
  
" How did you get to know him, Dr Lecter ?" she asked.  
  
He shot his most intense blue gaze at her. Clarice realized his attitude had slightly changed but she did not feel any fear.  
  
" - Maybe I should have started from the beginning, Clarice." he finally said, keeping his eyes locked on her. " I would appreciate you not to take note of what I am going to tell you now, but I'll leave it to you." She dropped her pencil. " Thank you Clarice. After our last encounter, I had to leave the country for a while. I am certain you understand why. When I returned, about eight months ago, I had to build myself a new identity, a ... cover identity - this is the way you call it, isn't it ? " she nodded " Umh. My cover identity is the one of a Neil Lanterbach, a middle aged professor at the university of West Virginia. I live in Morgantown, near the campus. I have been living there for the last six months."  
  
Hannibal paused to give Clarice the time to appreciate the consequences of what he had just told her. He had released to her all the information she needed to stop his career as a fugitive. And considering the charges that were against him, it would most certainly be a definitive stop. Of course, he could still try to run again, but he knew he would not do this. Not this time. Not alone.  
  
From the expression on her face he knew she had understood. Now he could answer her question:  
  
" - Malcolm is one of my students.  
- I see.  
...  
And what are you teaching ?  
- I beg your pardon.  
- You said you were a professor. What are you teaching ?  
- Criminology."  
  
Clarice put her face in her hands and shook her head. " I can't believe it. We put our best agents after him, and he's peacefully teaching criminology to our future recruits ! Someone should explain to me what I'm doing that for."   
  
" - 5 ft 7, you said ? That does not fit.  
- Ho, you're thinking of Mr. Talbot. Malcolm did not kill Talbot.  
- Then who did ?" Irritation was starting to show in her voice.  
" - Paul Ramsey.  
- Paul Ramsey ?  
- Yes. Though I have no evidence of that.  
- And who is Paul Ramsey, if I may ask ?  
- Another of my students.  
- Dr Lecter, what is it exactly you're teaching to these kids ?"  
  
Hannibal did not like the way she was looking at him now, nor the tone of her voice. His headache had become worse and he felt as if a jazz band was giving a special concert in his skull. That was shortening his patience. He knew he should not do anything to scare her, but keeping his control was becoming more and more difficult. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and calmed down. When he opened them again, Clarice was looking more puzzled than angry.  
  
" - When Malcolm' s English teacher first showed me his essay, I did not pay much attention to it." he explained. " I just thought the young man had imagination. I'm not really following the news these days, and I did not make the link with the murder of miss Prittchard. Of course, I heard about the daffodil killer, but did not really find much interest in the story.  
...  
Do you think I could get a glass of water, Clarice ?  
- Sure."  
  
She took a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and helped each of them a glass. He took a sip and went on.  
  
" - Thank you. Three weeks ago, I accidentally fell on a TV report mentioning you were working on the case. As you can imagine, my interest suddenly grew. I started following news bulletins and went to the university library to read old copies of national newspapers. When I read the articles about the Prittchard murder, it immediately rang a bell and I remembered Malcolm' s story. I made a little calculation of dates and concluded something was not right. I started watching Malcolm a little closer. I observed his movements and followed him on a few occasions. When I got the certainty he had something to hide, I decided to go further. One day, I broke in his apartment and put a bug in his phone.  
- You did what ?  
- I know this is illegal, agent Starling, but in terms of transgressing laws, let me remind you I did much worse.  
- You don't need to remind me.  
- I taped the conversations. Very interesting material indeed. Malcolm and his friends are using a code when they're discussing their special non scholar activity. But even a kid could understand.  
- His friends ?  
- Paul Ramsey and Steve Kowalski.  
- Let me guess ... Kowalski is another of your students, right ?"  
  
He smiled.  
  
" - No. Mr. Kowalski is studying international law. That should disclaim my responsibility, shouldn't it ?  
- I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.  
- I appreciate that, Clarice. There is a fourth one, a woman, but I have not been able to identify her yet. She sounds a little older than the boys, in her early thirties I would say. But that's only an impression.  
- I trust you for this kind of impressions." Clarice said, thinking of how he had guessed her on their very first meeting. " And what exactly do their special activity consists in ?  
- From what I've been able to reconstruct, it's a kind of challenge. Each of the competitors has the choice of the victim and of the weapon, but must expose his plan before going to action.  
- You mean they talk about the murders before committing them ?" Clarice asked, incredulously.  
" - Sort of. They write a scenario and put it in a sealed envelope. Then, after the murder, the enveloped is opened. Each murder is then judged by the other three members of the club. The main criteria are the originality, the difficulty and the adherence to the initial plan.  
- A scoring system ?  
- Yes. It also seems they have establish a few rules, the infringement of which decreases the total score.  
- Like what ?"  
  
Hannibal bent his head. "I have been able to understand only one of them so far. They must not know the victim. Kowalski knew Elizabeth Carter, the fifth victim."  
  
Clarice looked stupefied. For a moment, she remained speechless. This was just incredible.  
  
" - I just can't believe it, Dr Lecter." Hannibal tilted his head. Clarice noticed it. "No, that's not what I mean" she added. "I believe you. It's just that I can't imagine how someone could play with human lives this way.  
- Of course, you realize I have no physical evidence of what I told you, Clarice. Even the tapes would not be sufficient.  
- I can't use the tapes, doctor. Not unless I could legally justify how I got them.  
- I understand. Would you like to have them anyway ? I could send them to you.  
- I'm not sure I want to listen to them ... But yes, send them to me. There must be a way to stop them.  
- There is always a way. The real question is how long it will take to find it.  
- Yeah.  
- The problem, Clarice, is that with the holidays, they will probably leave the campus and my surveillance will become much more difficult."  
  
She stared at him. He was visibly offering his services to help her catch them. This man was definitely an enigma.  
  
" - You mean you're ready to go on with this, doctor ?  
- Of course. Unless you don't want me to.  
- I don't know. You must admit the situation is a bit weird. But I guess I don't have much choice ... The envelopes, you know where they keep them ?  
- Not yet. But I'm working on it. Actually, I entrusted my assistant with this mission.  
- Your assistant ?  
- I cannot be on the job twenty four hours a day, Clarice. John is one of my students." Anticipating her next question he added. "A remarkable young man, with the highest sense of morale and ethics. Obviously, he does not know all the elements of the story.  
- Does he know who he's working for ?  
- Nobody knows. Except you."  
  
"After all, why not ?" Clarice thought. As matters stood, he could as well take an assistant. The whole thing was pure science fiction.  
  
" The point is that without evidence, I can hardly ask help to the Bureau." Clarice said. "I would have to explain where I got my information from, and even if I did, nobody would believe me. We must find a track, something I could work on. Do you have any idea ?" He did not answer. Lecter was looking in her direction but did not seem to see her. " Doctor Lecter ?". No reaction. She raised her voice. "Doctor Lecter ?". She finally got his attention.  
  
" - Umh ? Sorry, Clarice, I did not hear what you said.  
- Never mind."  
  
He looked exhausted and very pale under the kitchen light.   
  
" - Are you all right ?" she asked  
" - Yes. Just distracted.  
- How long is your ride ?  
- I beg your pardon ?  
- Your ride home, or wherever it is you're going next, how long is it ?  
- About two hundred miles, why ?"  
  
She had a look at her watch: 3:30. She did not hesitate long. "Listen doctor, my couch certainly can't offer the kind of comfort you're used to, but if you want to rest a few hours before going, feel free." The incredulity in his eyes pleased her up: she finally was able to surprise him !  
  
" - Clarice, are you serious ?  
- Why not ? As matters stand, I don't see what difference a few hours can make. And I would feel guilty sending you back on the road now. Frankly speaking, you don't look like you can take two hundred miles.  
- You don't have to do that, Clarice. I can make it home. And even if I couldn't, I'm sure I can find a decent motel on my way.  
- I don't feel I have to do it. I'm just offering you a break. All the rules I mentioned earlier still apply of course.  
- Of course ... Thank you Clarice.  
- Good. I don't know for you, but as far as I'm concerned, I think I'm gonna go to sleep now."  
  
She stood up first. As he was getting on his feet, he suddenly lost balance and had to grip the table not to fall. In less than a second she was next to him, holding his elbow.  
  
" - Doctor Lecter, are you OK ? What is happening to you ?  
- Nothing. Just a little dizzy ... Clarice, I don't suppose you would have something against headaches ?  
- Of course I have. Come with me."  
  
She helped him to the couch. He had difficulties walking and his whole body was tensed. "Sit here." She went to the bathroom and brought him back two pills of Tylenol and a glass of water. "Swallow these." She loosened his tie. "Wait here. I'll be back in a second."  
  
She went to her bedroom and came back with two pillows and a blanket. She arranged the pillows at one end of the couch. She helped him lay down and covered him with the blanket. He was still very pale but was starting to relax a bit. She put her hand on his forehead: it was hot.  
  
" - I believe it would be wiser to show this wound to a doctor. And maybe have your head X-rayed.  
- You've been a wonderful nurse, Clarice.  
- Shut up."  
  
He laughed but pain made him close his eyes. She waited for him to calm down and then stood up. "Good night doctor Lecter". "Good night special agent Starling".  
  
Clarice went to take a shower: she needed to relax before going to sleep. When she came back to the living room. Lecter was sleeping soundly. She switched off the light and stayed there, looking at him in the dark.  
  
It was crazy. She was an FBI agent. And Hannibal Lecter, one of the most wanted criminal in America was sleeping on her couch. In this instant, she could have captured him without any difficulty. The image of her handcuffs came to her mind. She even heard the click they had made back in Krendler' s house. It would be so easy. He was never so vulnerable.  
  
And yet, she knew she wouldn't do it. She thought back of their conversation of tonight. The man had revealed to her his false identity, the place where he worked, the town where he lived. Doing that, he had put his life in her hands. As far as Clarice could remember, nobody had ever trusted her that way before. And no matter who he was and what he had done, that was a hell of a feeling.  
  
Clarice Starling went to bed.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	12. Waiting for a sign

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 12: Waiting for a sign  
  
The sun was already high in the sky when she woke up. No doubt she would be late in office, but at the moment, it was the last of her concerns. She had to stop a group of student from massacring people just for fun. And all the help she could expect for now was the one of an ex serial killer. Although she was not sure about the 'ex' part. She got up and got dressed.  
  
When she arrived in the living room, the couch was empty. She found a little note on the pillow:  
  
  
" Dear Clarice,  
  
I though I would spare you the embarrassment of finding me in your house this morning.  
  
I hope you know me well enough not to take it as a token of discourtesy, but to consider it as a modest sign of my gratitude for your wonderful hospitality.  
  
As far as the little matter we discussed is concerned, I believe we will soon hear from each other. That is, if you want it.  
  
  
Truly yours,  
H. "  
  
Clarice smiled. Always the gentleman, aren't you doctor ? At least the note proved she had not dreamt all that. She sat on the couch. A highly masculine scent was impregnating the pillows. No, she had not dreamt.  
  
She switched on her computer and sat before it. There was one thing she wanted to check, but she did not want to do it from the office, where connections were logged.   
  
She connected the site of the university of West Virginia. She had already heard of the Forensic Identification Program. She navigated through the links and finally found the page of presentation of the professors. "Criminology: Neil Lanterbach". She burst out laughing. It was only when she saw his name written that she knew for sure he had told her the truth. "Still playing with anagrams, doctor ? When are you going to grow up".  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had spent the next three days in routine work. In the morning she was having 'valuable discussions' with Peter Malone who, unfortunately, was deserving his reputation. She had decided not to fight on this battle front, and was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear: yes, Hannibal Lecter was a monster; yes, he scared and manipulated her all the way along; yes, Paul Krendler was an incredible loss for the Bureau; no, we could not let Lecter go away with what he had done to Krendler ... Bla bla bla ... Malone swallowed everything and more. After a couple of hours, he had started being 'protective' with her: poor little Clarice who had been sent to the freak and could not measure up ... His sticky attention was giving her the nausea, but she didn't show.  
  
Her afternoons were much more pleasant though. She was working with Brad and Ted Wallace. They had started again analyzing the crime scenes and made a huge progress when they managed to match tire prints on two different murder cases. Then they went on with deep investigation of the victims pasts. When Brad suggested they divided the work, she offered to take care of Elizabeth Carter. She knew it was the only case worth searching, and her colleagues were loosing their times, but she could not tell anybody.  
  
Every evening, they had a recap meeting in Price' s office. On the third day, Price held her back after the session. He waited for the two other agents to leave them alone.  
  
" - You're still angry with me, aren't you, Starling ?" She looked at him straight in the eyes and took a moment before answering.  
" - You're my boss, sir. I do not have to approve an order to execute it.  
- Yeah. But you think I traded you, ain't that right ?  
- Looks very much like it, sir."  
  
He sat on the top of his desk and looked at her in silence for a few seconds.  
  
" - I guess you got it right, Starling. I made a kind of deal. But not with Pearsall, though.  
- You do not have to provide explanations, sir. As I said, you're my senior officer.  
- And that exempts me ?" He looked genuinely surprised. Clarice was intrigued.  
" - It definitely does.  
- OK. Then let's say I'm not obliged to, but just willing to. This is authorized, ain't it ?".  
  
She did not answer. What the hell was he trying to do ? What kind of game was he into ? Price continued.  
  
" This unit was my idea, and in a way, it is competing with the group of Pearsall. Has not been easy to convince the big boss to trust me, but I did. And that little weasel of Pearsall has been on my back ever since. We got pretty good results at the start, but we have not made major progresses in the daffodil case since we're working on it. Pearsall never lost an occasion to point it out to our common boss."  
  
Clarice was beginning to understand where he was going to. Though she was still angry, she wanted to hear the end of his story now.  
  
" - This is why I was in New York the other day. They wanted to take the case away from us. I had to accept Pearsall' s conditions.  
- I see. And so you traded me.  
- It was his idea but, yes, I accepted to trade you.  
- That does not make things look much better to me, sir.  
- I know, Clarice. And I understand. Whatever my reasons were, you are the one who has to cope with Peter 'The Skunk' Malone everyday."  
  
She grinned at him, then laugh.  
  
" - OK, you've got me. I can ... understand the situation. And I will do my best not to slap Malone' s face."  
  
He smiled. As she was heading at the door he called her back.  
  
" - I've not finished, Starling.  
- Sir, whatever your reasons were I cannot commit not to slap Pearsall' s face, so don't even ask.  
- You would actually do me a favor if you did slam him.  
- So, what else do you have to tell me ?  
...  
- I want to apologize, Clarice."  
  
She looked at him incredulously. Whatever they had done to her in the past, none of their boss had ever apologized to her.   
  
" - I'm ..." She started. " Apologies accepted. But don't do it again.  
- I'll keep that in mind ... Thank you, Starling.  
- See you tomorrow, sir."  
  


* * *

  
Starling had not heard from Lecter since his visit. The day after, he had sent her the tapes via FedEx. She had listened to each and everyone of them a dozen times. He was right: they would not be enough to convince a jury. Even if she could find a way to have them produced in court.  
  
She had spent her evenings on her computer, gathering all the information she could on Van Basten, Ramsey and Kowalski. She had even found photos on their respective high schools web sites.  
  
Clarice was reading again her notes - for the twentieth time at least - when her look got attracted to her fax machine. She had not noticed it when she came home, but there was one foil in the receiving basket. She reached for it and read"  
  
"   
Call me at 817 - 234 - 3500.  
Any time.  
But not from your phone. "  
  
Shit ! How long had this been there ? She put a coat on her pajamas and some hot boots. There was a phone box at the corner of the street. That would do.  
  


* * *

  
She did not need to say her name.  
  
" - Good evening, Clarice.  
- Dr Lecter ! I though you'd never called.  
- I've been a little bit busy these days. I am sorry to make you go out so late, Clarice. I trust you, but I am a little bit more suspicious about your friends.  
- That's all right. I would have called sooner but I just saw the fax now.  
- There's no bother.  
  
- So, what's up, doctor ?  
- I have good news for you, Clarice. I think we are making progress. From the last conversations I traced, they should go to action very soon. And it is Malcolm' s turn.  
- And this is good news ? Please don't call me when you have bad news, OK ?"  
  
He chuckled. Then explained:  
  
" - The only way to catch them is that they make a mistake. And they won't make one if they stay quiet. Moreover, I believe Malcolm is the weakest element of the team, which increases our chances to get them. We've been continuously following him for three days now. If he leaves an envelope somewhere, we will find it.  
- You and your ... assistant ?  
- That's it. John. I must confess I would not have managed without his help. I think you will like him, Clarice. In some ways, he reminds me of you the first time we met."  
  
She did not comment on his last remark. She did not want to know if he was playing with his 'assistant' the way he had played with her. She would find out soon enough.  
  
" - Do you have a plan, Dr Lecter ?  
- Well, that is the tricky part, and the reason why I asked you to call me.  
- Why ?  
- To be honest, Clarice, I could think of a couple of ways to stop them. But I do not believe you would totally approve of them.  
- Do not take initiatives, doctor.  
- That's what I thought. But you understand the range of legal moves I can make is rather limited, being who I am. I cannot just go to the local police saying 'Hey, I'm Hannibal Lecter and I think someone's gonna commit a crime'. The first thing they would do would be lock me in, and I must admit the idea is not particularly appealing to me."  
  
Clarice thought for a moment.   
  
" - OK, just tell me where you are and I will join you in the morning. As an FBI agent I can intervene on the whole United States territory. Could be a little bit tricky to explain what I was doing in West Virginia, but I'm afraid we have no other choice.  
- We are still in Morgantown. They did not leave the campus till now. Give me a call at this number when you arrive there and I will let you know where to find me.  
- All right. See you tomorrow then.  
- Good night, Clarice.  
- Good night, Dr Lecter."  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	13. Staking out

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 13: Staking out  
  
The morning after, Starling called the office to say she was sick and probably would not come for two or three days. She packed a few things in her sport bag and left to West Virginia.  
  
It was around eleven when she arrived to Morgantown. She stopped at a phone box and called Lecter' s cell phone. He was staking out the house of Van Basten. He gave her the address as well as instructions to get there and a description of his car.  
  
She arrived there five minutes later. She spotted his car easily and parked three cars behind his. She went out, locked the door and walked in his direction. When she was at his level, she quickly slipped into the black BMW. He didn't look at her, nor did he look surprise. He had probably seen her arrive in his rear mirror.  
  
" - Good morning, Clarice.  
- Good morning, Dr Lecter.  
- Any difficulties finding me ?  
- No. Your indications were precise. Anything new since last night ?  
- No. Malcolm just went out to buy some croissant. He is up there with his girl friend, Tammy." he said, pointing out at a little house about thirty feet from where they were parked. " There is a thermos of coffee on the back seat. I'm not sure it's still hot, but you can try if you want.  
- I will take the risk. Thanks. Want some too ?  
- No. Thank you."  
  
She grabbed the thermos and helped herself. He had not stopped staring at the house since she entered the car. He wore sun glasses and had a week's beard. She wondered when was the last time he had slept. The wound on his temple had turned to a three inches black and blue stain.  
  
" - And where is ... John ?" Clarice asked. For the first time he looked in her direction and even gave her a gentle smile.  
" - He had to leave town for a couple of days, but he should be back in the afternoon. You'll meet him.  
- I'm impatient".  
  
That explain the beard. He turned back to his surveillance, but she could see his smile get wider. After about ten minutes of silence Clarice understood that the staking out would not involve a lot of conversation. She set herself more comfortable in her seat and started to let her thought wander.   
  
She was taken from her musing by Lecter about half an hour later. " He's moving !" She sat up straight. A young couple had come out of the house and was heading to a van parked nearby.  
  
" - Is that his car ?" Clarice asked.  
" - Hers. But he is using it often. Why ?  
- We found some tire prints corresponding to the same heavy vehicle on two of the crime scenes.  
- It could be Tammy' s van. Kowalski has a pickup too. Did you bring the prints ?  
- I have some photos in my bag. We can check them if we get an occasion.  
- Umh."  
  
Lecter started the car and began to follow the van. Clarice silently admired the way he was doing that. He kept a comfortable distance but never lost sight of them. The tailing ended after twenty minutes in front of a little Italian restaurant.  
  
" - Clarice, aren't you hungry ?  
- A little. Should we follow them ?  
- I suggest you go alone. He knows me.  
- OK."  
  
The restaurant was not exactly luxurious. She ordered some pasta and a glass of wine. She shot a few discreet looks at Malcolm and Tammy during the lunch. They looked the perfect young couple. He was tender with her and she laughed to his jokes.   
  
At the end of the meal, they ordered a coffee. She decided to leave before them to be ready when the tailing would start again. Lecter was still where she had left him.  
  
" - I brought you a sandwich.  
- Thank you, Clarice. Always thoughtful."  
  
He took away his sun glasses and rubbed his eyes. They were red with tiredness.  
  
" - How long is it since you last slept ?" Clarice asked. He did not answer but took the sandwich and thanked her with a smile. " It's tomato and mozzarella. That's all they had.  
- It will do. To be honest, I would eat anything ... or anyone." He grinned  
" - That's not funny, Dr Lecter.  
- Sorry, Clarice."  
  
He started eating. He had not finished when the two young people came out. Lecter swore and put his sandwich on the dashboard. Clarice looked at him with her eyes wide opened. It was the first time she ever heard him swear. Loosing you legendary imperturbability, doctor ?  
  
He started the engine and left the parking. The tailing went on for the whole afternoon. Van Basten took them successively to a bank, a supermarket and a drugstore. Then they stayed for about one hour at Paul Ramsey' s place. After that, they went to the house of Tammy' s parents. It was 5:45 pm.  
  
" - You think they could leave the envelope to one of 'club' members ?" Clarice asked. It had been one hour none of them had said a word and she almost startled him.  
" - I don't think so. According to me, it has to be a neutral place.   
- A bank ?  
- I already checked that. None of them rented a safe in Morgantown or the area.  
- How did you ... Forget it."  
  
" - Any leads concerning the fourth one, the woman ?" she asked five minutes later. He looked at her, confused  
- I did not tell you ? Forgive me, Clarice, I am a little tired.  
- No kidding !  
- Her name is Judith Valentine. She is a stripper at the Cat' s Cradle, the most select nightclub in town. I heard she had an affair with Kowalski last year."  
  
Her cell phone rang. " Starling ... Peter ? Ho, hello agent Malone ... Yes, I asked him to tell you ... No, just a cold I think" Clarice was feeling weird talking with Malone from Hannibal Lecter' s car. " No. Two or three days I guess ... Of course, You'll be the first one to know when I'm back in office ... Yes, I think so too ... All right. Thanks for having called". She hung up.  
  
Malone' s call left Clarice with an uneasy feeling of guilt ... as if in some ways she was betraying Lecter. Damn it, she thought, she did not go and get him, he came to her. What had he expected from her ? That she gave up her sense of duty for his blue eyes ? Clarice realized she was getting excited alone. She took a deep breath and calmed down. Lecter had not said a word, apparently unaware of her inner conflicts.  
  
Van Basten went out of the house. Lecter prepared to start again, but the young man just took something from the van and re-entered.  
  
Half an hour later, It was Lecter' s phone who disturbed the longing silence. " John ! Where are you ? ... How was your trip ? ... Good ... Yes, she is with me ... We are at Tammy's place, they have been here for about two hours ... Are you sure ? ... All right, we're waiting for you then. If anything out of the ordinary happens, don't try to intervene but call me at once ... Right. See you tomorrow, John."  
  
" - John will take over.  
- Good.  
- He should be here in five minutes."  
  
Before long, an old Chevy parked just before the BMW. Lecter started the engine and their car joined the increasing traffic.  
  
" - I did not have time to arrange for an hotel for you, Clarice. I thought you could stay at my place. But if it is a problem for you, we can try to find another accommodation.  
- No problem for me, but I would not want to impose myself.  
- You're not, Clarice. Not at all."  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	14. No more lies

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 14: No more lies  
  
The house was very much 'Hannibal Lecter', she thought when they entered the living room. He saw her have a look at her surroundings. " It is not big, but it is comfortable. Let me show you your room, so that you can rest and freshen up before dinner." They went to a large bedroom. The furniture was of dark precious wood. Three paintings, two hunting scenes and a nude, were hanging on the white walls. There were no flowers or trinkets around. It was an essentially masculine bedroom.  
  
" - Is it your room, Dr Lecter ?  
- Yes. As I told you, the house is not very big. I admit this may not be the perfect room for a young lady, but I am confident it can do for a couple of nights.  
- Where are you going to sleep ?" Lecter misinterpreted her question.  
" - Don't worry, Clarice. I have no intention to violate your privacy. I will take the couch.  
- That's not what I meant, doctor. I have no doubts on your good manners. I was just thinking that you sure need a rest and the couch is not necessary ...  
- I'm getting used to it, Clarice." He said with a grin. She smiled back at him. "I will let you rest now. Dinner should be ready in one hour". He left her alone.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had taken a shower and was feeling relaxed. When she went back to the leaving room the table had been dressed for two but Lecter was not there. She made her way to the corridor and found him in the kitchen. He was turning his back to her, busy turning something in a pan. He felt her presence at once.  
  
" - It will be ready in a minute. I'm afraid I did not have time to make shopping either, so we will have to content with what I had.  
- It smells good. What is it ?  
- Omelette Andalouse. It is a French recipe.  
- I usually get contented with less. Can I help with something ?  
- No. It is all fixed. But thanks for offering."  
  


* * *

  
The dinner was delicious. Starling feasted on every bit of it.  
  
The conversation did not quite measure up though. Lecter had been courteous as always, but not really talkative. He had not accustomed her to such economy of speech. She first put it on account of him being tired, which he sure was. But she soon realized there was more to it. He did not look really angry. It was something more subtle, slight traces of impatience in his tone he most often managed to conceal but that sometimes showed up. As if he was ... upset.  
  
After dinner, they had coffee and he politely asked her if she would mind him smoking a cigar. As she answered there was no bother, he lighted a thin brown tube which immediately exhale a nice scent in the room.  
  
As they had both been silent for a while he tilted is head on his left and then on the right. She heard his vertebras crack.  
  
  
Hannibal Lecter had difficulties keeping his eyes opened. His whole body was hurting. The sound his vertebras made when he tried to untie his neck echoed in the silent room. He saw Clarice stand up and come behind his chair. She put her hands on his shoulder and started massaging his aching back. The relief was almost immediate. Hannibal could not help moaning slightly.  
  
Clarice had no idea why she did that, she had stood up in a reflex. The muscles at the top of his back were as hard as stone. She started moving her fingers slowly, careful not to hurt him more.  
  
" - So, how long is it you haven't slept ?" She repeated the question he had eluded in the afternoon. He kept his eyes closed.  
" - Last time was on your couch.  
- I see. Really, you should keep your room tonight. I can take the couch. I'm not that delicate, you know.  
- I know, Clarice. But I'll be fine."  
  
Her hands on his shoulders were a real torture. As his painful muscles slowly released, his inner temperature was going up. He had to use his whole power of control not to turn at her and take her in his arms. But he could not do that. Not now. Not if she did not ask him to ... Not until she would fully trust him ... and finally surrender.  
  
" - What is it, Dr Lecter ?" She abruptly took him back to reality.  
" - Umh ?  
- You hardly talked tonight. You were ... distant, as if something was bothering you.  
- I am sorry, Clarice. I did not intend to be rude.  
- I did not say you were.  
- Well, as you pointed out, I am tired.  
- I know there's something else. Don't lie to me.  
- Lie to you !"  
  
He had suddenly turned his face to her. For the first time, the fury she saw in his eyes scared her, even if it had lasted less then a second. For a very brief instant, she had seen the Hannibal Lecter the newspapers had been describing. She quickly withdrew her hands from his back He recomposed almost immediately.  
  
" - Sorry, I did not want to scare you, Clarice. But there are words you just should avoid using.  
- What is it ? what did I do ?" As he did not answer, she slightly lost her temper. "For Christ sake, will you tell me what's happening ?"  
  
He took a few seconds more to answer. His voice was calm and low when he started: " There is something you're hiding from me, Clarice. I know you're not telling me everything, but I don't know what it is you're not telling. I have been very honest with you, Clarice. And the thought this honesty is not fully repaid makes me nervous."  
  
She went back to her chair in front of him and sat. She took a sip of water. He had bent his head down and was playing with his napkin.  
  
" - You're right." she started. He raised his face and his blue eyes gazed at her with so much intensity they made her chill. She did not look away though, and locked her eyes to his.  
  
" - The night you ... broke in my car, even before I saw you, I was angry; do you remember ?  
- Yes.  
- Well, I just had a difficult meeting at work. With my boss, and Clint Pearsall. Remember him ?  
- Paul Krendler' s friend ?  
- That's him. He was also my boss at that time."  
  
He was still staring at her. He did not blink. She broke first. She bent her head and went on:  
  
" - After Krendler' s ... After that night at Krendler' s lake house, Pearsall gave me a hard time. He tried to charge me with what happened. But as that did not work, he decided to put an end to my career. He could not fire me, but he buried me under so much paper work I sometimes wished I'd never join the FBI in the first place.  
- But you did not resign.  
- No. I guess I am more stubborn than even I could imagine. I held on because I did not want to let him win. But about four months ago, I was contacted by Michael Price. He offered me a job in his new unit. Pearsall tried to intervene but Price persisted and won in the end.  
...  
I don't suppose you would have a cigarette, doctor ?  
- In the upper right drawer of the dresser."  
  
She took a cigarette and she lit it up. She showed him the pack with an interrogative look, but he shook his head negatively. She turned back to the table. Hannibal Lecter' s look was kind of glued to her. But he did not talk. He waited for her to be ready to go on.  
  
" I thought that Pearsall had given up, that he would let me in peace now. But I underestimated the man's viciousness. He profited of the fact Price's popularity rating decreased with the daffodil case and put the pressure."   
  
She knew she was coming to the most difficult part. Both because she did not know how he would react, and because she was going to release confidential information to him. " He assigned a new agent to your case, doctor. His name is Peter Malone. Pearsall chose him because he's a real son of a bitch. Then he arranged to force me to cooperate with Malone. I must have regular meetings with him, where I'm supposed to tell him everything I know about you."  
  
Lecter had not moved a muscle. His eyes were still locked to her but did not express any anger.  
  
" - I did not betray you, Dr Lecter." Her very words sounded strange to Clarice. " And I will not.  
- I know, Clarice. "  
  
His eyes finally went down. He took her hand in his on the table.  
  
" - I am sorry you had to go through all that by my fault, Clarice." As she gave him a puzzled look, he added: "Sincerely.  
- Was part of the game.  
- Not exactly. Well, I guess there is nothing I can do for it now. But perhaps I could help you with Mr. Malone.  
- Don't touch him, Dr Lecter !" she warned him.  
  
He chuckled.  
  
" - Actually, that was not what I had in mind, Clarice. Though the idea could seduce me.  
- I don't want anything to happen to him, doctor.  
- And nothing will. Not coming from me anyway. I give you my word on that.  
- Good. Then what's on your mind.  
- I was thinking I could give you some information that you could convey to him, so that they would release the pressure on you.  
- Information on you ?  
- Why not ? After all, I am the most reliable source of information regarding Hannibal Lecter.  
- False information, then.  
- Not necessarily. I was more thinking of 'old' information, things that could be proven right, but let's say a little ... out of date.  
- Why would you do that, doctor ? "  
  
Hannibal took some time to answer, as if he was asking himself the question.  
  
" - To help a friend ? I know you well enough to realize how difficult it has been for you to tell me all this, Clarice. And how much more difficult it has been to conceal things from the FBI. I am grateful for it, and I believe the least I can do is to try make it a little bit easier for you.  
...  
I think we are both tired now. I believe we'd rather go for a little rest and sleep on it. We can review the situation tomorrow.  
- Yeah. You're probably right."  
  
They parted in the living room.  
  
Clarice felt asleep exactly thirty seconds after her body hit the mattress.  
  
Hannibal, though he was exhausted, could not sleep before one hour. The memory of Clarice' s fingers moving on his upper back was still burning him. The real distress in her eyes when she had told him about Malone was breaking his heart. It was passed one when sleep finally took him over.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	15. Breaking in

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 15: Breaking in  
  
Clarice woke up at seven. It was a long time she hadn't slept so well. She got dressed and silently entered the living room.  
  
Hannibal Lecter was still sleeping. She leaned on the wall and looked at him in the morning light. His blanket had slipped on the floor and he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Clarice took a deep breath. He was gorgeous. Hadn't it been for the gray hairs on his chest, his body could have been the one of a forty years old man.  
  
He moved slightly on the couch. Last thing Starling wanted was him to wake up and find her looking at him like she did. She moved to the kitchen and undertook to make some coffee.  
  
She had been struggling for five minutes with the Italian coffee machine when she heard Lecter' s cell phone ring. One second later, she heard the noise of a big weight falling on the floor, and then he answered the phone. Clarice chuckled. She did not want to embarrass him, so she stayed in the kitchen.   
  
He joined her twenty minutes later. He had taken a shower and shaved and seemed to have recover both his elegance and good mood.  
  
" - Clarice ! I did not know you were up already. Did you sleep well ?  
- Like a baby. And you ?  
- Well enough. So, what would you like for breakfast ? John is going to join us.  
- I ... I don't know. I usually don't ... What do you suggest ?"  
  
Hannibal looked at he as a father reproving his child for a bad habit.  
  
" - Clarice, you should take better care of yourself. Sit at the table.  
- Yes, daddy." He laughed and started preparing the breakfast.  
" - By the way, John knows me only as professor Neil Lanterbach. May I suggest you avoid calling me Dr Lecter when he's here.  
- How do you suggest I call you, professor ?  
- Well, I told him we were old friends. Maybe you could call me just Neil.  
- All right, Neil."  
  
He gave her a mischievous look.  
  
" - What is it ?" she asked  
" - Nothing.  
- Come on.  
- I was just wondering ... When the kid is not around ... I mean, now that we are kind of working together ...  
- Are you going to tell me what you have in mind or will I have to torture you ?  
- Please don't, special agent Starling. I will confess ... Perhaps you would accept to consider calling me just Hannibal.  
- Umh. This is not gonna be easy."  
  
The door bell rang at that moment. Hannibal looked through the kitchen window and identified his visitor.  
  
" - It is John. Clarice, would you mind ?  
- Of course."  
  
She went to open the door. Clarice liked John at first sight. He was maybe twenty or twenty one, about 6 ft tall and almost skinny. His blond tangled hair was keeping falling down on his sparkling light blue eyes.  
  
" - You must be Clarice ?  
- And you are John. Come in, we were about to have breakfast.  
- Why do you think I came ? I would not miss any occasion for one of Neil' s breakfasts !" He winked at her.  
  
When they came back to the kitchen, the table had been dressed and was full of delicious looking dishes: fried bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes, fresh fruits and two different kind of juice Lecter had apparently just pressed. They started eating joyfully.  
  
As the conversation went on, Clarice understood what Lecter had meant about John. "I think you will like him, Clarice" . The young man was full of enthusiasm about his future mission as law enforcing officer. The respect that was in his eyes each time he looked at Lecter did not escape Clarice. " In some ways, he reminds me of you the first time we met ".  
  
They finished their breakfast discussing John' s nightly activities. Malcolm had come back home alone at three in the morning, after having spent part of the night at the Cat' s Cradle with his friends. He would probably not get out before noon. John left to go back to his room on the campus and get some sleep. Lecter and Starling prepared for another long day of staking out.  
  


* * *

  
They had been following Malcolm Van Basten whole day and Clarice was starting loosing hope that anything interesting would happen. They were currently in Absom street and he was apparently heading to Tammy' s parents house. Then unexpectedly he parked his car in front of an old gray building.  
  
Lecter drove beyond and only found a parking space two blocks away. From where they had stopped, they could not see Malcolm. They went out of the car and approached on foot. They saw the young man enter the building.  
  
" - What's that ?" Clarice asked.  
- A gym.  
- Does he work out often ?  
- It is the first time I see him go there.  
- Do you think ...  
- Could be. It is the only unusual place he's been in the last three days. I think it is worth giving it a try."  
  
Lecter took his cell phone and called John. He explained the situation and asked him to join them to take over the shadowing. They started waiting in front of a jewelry shop window. Hannibal took Clarice' s arm and pointed at the bracelets in the window. They just looked like a normal couple on Easter shopping campaign. Clarice smiled.  
  
They saw John arrive but did not make any sign to him. Neither did he make his presence noticeable. After about twenty minutes, Van Basten went out of the gym and slipped into his car. John followed him as planned. Clarice and Hannibal let them go away and headed towards the building. They passed it and turn in a little lane at the corner.  
  
" - It closes in half an hour" Hannibal started.  
" - I've seen. We cannot break in by the front door, there are too many people in the street.  
- Umh." Lecter looked up the building. " I think I could open one of these windows quite easily. Then I could open the door for you.  
- Dr Lecter, I don't really like the idea of ...  
- If you have any suggestion, Clarice, I am quite open."  
  
She thought for a moment. The only right thing to do would have been to call the police and get a warrant. But then she would have to explain what she was doing there while she was supposed to be on sick leave. Moreover, the police intervention were generally not discreet and the 'club' would probably be alerted and would stop everything. Last thing was that she was not sure at all there was something to find inside. "OK, we're gonna have a look first." He nodded. "Wait for me here. I have a few things to take in the car. I won't be long". He left her alone in the lane.  
  
When he came back, he carried a little plastic bag. He took two pairs of glove from it and handed one of them to Clarice.  
  
" - I know they are not your size, but it is all I have.  
- Do you always travel with your equipment, Dr Lecter ?" He grinned.  
" - A man in my position should rather be prepared to anything, Clarice."  
  
They waited for the gym to close, and then another fifteen minutes. Hannibal put the little bag in his jacket pocket and started climbing on the building facade. Clarice admired the agility with which he did so. In less then two minutes he was on the second floor, and it took him only thirty seconds to get inside. She left her position and approached the front door. When she heard it crack slightly, she slipped herself inside the building. He locked the door behind her.  
  
" - And now, what do we do ?" she asked.  
" - I gave it a thought. Why use a gym ? Where could someone conceal something personal in a gym ?  
- The lockers.  
- Umh. I think we should start with them."  
  
They went upstairs to the lockers room. They first had a look at the names on each of the lockers but did not find the one of Malcolm, nor the names of his friends.  
  
" - Well, it looks like we will have to check them all." Lecter said.  
" - I'm not gonna ask if your abilities extend to the opening of the locks.  
- I suggest we divide the work: I open the lockers and you check them. Would that do ?  
- All right. Let's get on with it."  
  
Lecter approached the first set of lockers and started playing with the little lock. It took him about ten seconds to get rid of it. "I believe we should add 'professional thief' to your case file description, doctor" Clarice said. He smiled and grappled with the second locker.  
  
Clarice started searching the already opened lockers. Tennis shoes, dirty sport clothes, a bottle of water which seemed to have been there for months. The odor was not exactly pleasant and she appreciated having gloves.  
  
A little routine settled in: Hannibal was opening the lockers one after the other and Clarice was searching them. Actually, he was opening them faster than she could inspect them. She was looking in her ninth locker when she saw Hannibal freeze. He instructed her to stay silent and listened. She hadn't heard anything and was wondering what he was doing. She was about to ask him when he suddenly rush to her and put his hand on her mouth. He showed her the corner of the room and she understood he wanted her to hide behind a raw of lockers. She complied. He quickly closed the lockers that were still opened, switched off the light and joined her in hiding.  
  
It was then she heard the sound of footsteps in the stairs behind them. They both remained still in the dark. A man opened the door and switched on the light. He quietly went to one of the locker Hannibal had previously opened.  
  
Clarice tensed up, hoping the man would not notice the lock had been opened. If she was caught breaking in the Gym with Hannibal Lecter, there would be for sure a lot of explanation to give and she could consider herself lucky if she could find a job as a doorkeeper after that.  
  
Lecter put his arm around her waist and pressed her body against his. She was so close she could feel his heartbeat. It was steady. There was not an ounce of tension in him. She leaned back on him and relaxed a bit.  
  
The man closed the locker and went to the office at the other end of the room, unaware of their presence. As she was about to exit from hiding, Lecter blocked her. "Don't move." he whispered. "Everything is gonna be fine, Clarice." She looked at him.  
  
" - But ...  
- We have to finish this."  
  
The door opened again. Lecter pushed her quickly behind the cupboards and shielded her with his body.  
  
The man walked through the lockers room and disappeared. They stayed in the same position and in complete silence for another minute, until they heard the front door of the gym slam. Then Hannibal Lecter slowly pulled back and let her free.  
  
" Let's go back to work." he said. Clarice took a deep breath and started again searching the lockers he was opening.  
  
They worked fast and in silence. Clarice was inspecting her sixteenth locker when she finally got it.  
  
" Dr Lecter !" He turned back to her. " I think we've got what we're looking for. He moved to her and examined the large yellow envelope she had in her hands. He had a look inside the locker: there was a bunch of other envelopes same size and color, but nothing else. Clarice was about to open it, but he put his and on her arm to stop her.  
  
" - Wait.  
- What ?  
- Do you intent to take these now ?  
- I can't. They would loose any legal value if I did.  
- That's what I though. Come with me."  
  
She followed him out of the room and in the corridor. They entered the men' s bathroom. He went to one of the basin and turned the hot water tap. After a while, mist started coming up and he hold the envelope above it. The water was not hot enough and it took half an hour before they were able to open it.  
  
Hannibal took a white sheet of paper from it and handed it to Clarice. "After you, my dear." She took the paper and started reading, Lecter' s looking over her shoulder:  
  
"  
Victim name: William Lazenby  
  
Victim details: Forty two years old, 6 ft 2, 200 lb, working out addict, excellent health conditions.  
  
Location: Victim's house, 21 Mountain avenue, Clearfountain, VA  
  
Weapon: Saber.  
  
Date: Sunday, April 24th.  
"  
  
" - Sunday." he said. " That gives us at least thirty six hours to do something.  
- Yes, but do what ?  
- First, let's get out of here. Then, I would suggest we pay a little visit to the potential victim, and ensure he does not end as number nine on the daffodil killer' s list."  
  
They put the envelope back into its locker and left the gym by the front door. When they got to the car, Lecter called John and informed him they would have to leave town for a couple of days. His instructions were clear: continue to follow Van Basten as long as he remained in Morgantown and call Lecter as soon as he would leave the city. But under no circumstances try to intervene.  
  
Hannibal started the car and took the direction of the interstate.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	16. Victim number nine

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 16: Victim number nine  
  
It was 4:00 am when they arrived in view of Lazenby' s house. Lecter passed the house and parked in an alley, behind some trees. The car was not visible from the street. He stopped the engine.  
  
" - Do you wear stocking ?" he asked abruptly. Starling looked at him with her eyes wide opened. He repeated the question: "Clarice, do you wear stocking ?  
- Yes." she answered hesitantly." Why ?  
- Could you take them off ?  
- Hannibal Lecter, I don't know what you have in mind, but I strongly suggest ...  
- Easy, Clarice. I am not making any indecent proposal, I assure you. Though I might be tempted under other circumstances ..." he added mischievously. She looked daggers at him. " I was just trying to plan our next move. I do not assume you intent to just ring Mr. Lazenby' s door bell at four in the morning and announce him a serial killer is going to come and kill him tomorrow, do you ? Neither can we introduce ourselves as special agent Clarice Starling, currently on sick leave, and Dr Hannibal Lecter, a.k.a. Hannibal The Cannibal, currently on the run, his guardian angels, can we ?  
- Not if we don't want to finish our days in an asylum.  
- I have tried that and believe me, there are better places to live.  
- OK, but I still don't see the link with my stocking."  
  
He paused for a moment, keeping his eyes on her. She was starting to feel nervous. He noticed it and explained:  
  
" - Well, I figured out we may not have time to convince Mr. Lazenby. And therefore, we may have to use the force, for his own good and without hurting him of course.  
- Dr Lecter, for the last time, what is the link with my stocking ?  
- I am coming to it, Clarice. Do not be so impatient, my dear. The first thing the police will do when they come and deliver him will be to show him the photos of all criminals on the run. I guess that if Mr. Lazenby was to recognize me on one of these, it could be embarrassing for you. I believe stocking would be a good way to mask my face, but unfortunately, I'm not wearing mine tonight."  
  
He caught anger in her look.  
  
" - And I suppose you find the situation hilarious, don't you ?" she asked.  
" - Not at all." She was surprised by the seriousness of his look. " Here is what I suggest. I am going to get out of the car. Take your time. When you're ready, just join me in the street. Is that ... acceptable ?  
- Yes. But if I see you around before I've finished, I promise I'll shoot you. Is that ... acceptable ?"  
  
He did not answer. Instead he laughed and left the car.  
  
When she joined him, he was already busy with the lock of the front door. She let him finish in silence, then handed him the stocking. There was no more traces of amusement on his face, he was concentrated on what he had to do. "Clarice, do you have your hand-cuffs with you ?". She nodded and gave them to him.  
  
They penetrated into the house. Everything was quiet. They first had a quick look at the ground floor. Nobody was there. "Bedrooms must be upstairs" Clarice whispered. Hannibal nodded. He arranged Clarice' s stocking on his face and they went up, careful not to make noise. There were only three doors. The first one was opened and was leading to the bathroom. They listened to the second one and did not hear anything. Clarice opened it delicately while Lecter had a look inside: "Empty" he murmured. As they were moving to the third door, they heard someone snoring on the other side.  
  
Starling put her hand on the knob. Lecter put his hand on her shoulder.  
  
" - You stay here." he said, as low as possible.  
"- What the f..." he shushed her. She continued whispering: "What do you mean I stay here ?  
- What I said. You stay here and wait for me. It is useless we go together. If things go right, I can handle alone. If they go wrong, I will need you as a backup ... If things go really wrong, just run away.  
- If you think I'm gonna let you go alone, you're a fool and ..."  
  
He put his hand on her mouth. "I'm not asking, Clarice. It is an order." There was such resolution in his eyes that it kept her speechless. He profited by her confusion to enter in the room and close the door behind him. She put her ear on the door, trying to catch any noise.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal closed the door behind him. He knew keeping her outside was a stupid move, but he could not resolve to let her take unnecessary risks. He thought he had involved her in too many illegal actions already.  
  
William Lazenby was sleeping soundly alone in his bed. Hannibal moved slowly towards him. As he was half the way, Lazenby moved and Hannibal froze instantly. He waited one full minute to be sure the man was still sleeping. When the snoring started again, he proceeded further. He had almost arrived to the bed head when a slight movement at the other end of the room attracted his attention. He just had the time to turn his head to see a cat jumping in his direction caterwauling.  
  
Hannibal managed avoiding the animal, but the noise woke Lazenby up. He jumped out of his bed and rushed to door. Hannibal blocked him and the man found himself projected on the wall. Hannibal ran to him and immobilized him on the top of the little desk that was in one corner of the room. But Lazenby was strong, and he managed to free himself and grab a letter opener.  
  
Hannibal did not feel the pain when the blade hit his stomach. He grasped Lazenby' s wrists and pushed him to the bed. Then he grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to the bed head. In the twinkling of an eye, he took the hand-cuffs from his pocket and locked Lazenby' s both hands to the bed head bars.  
  
Hannibal pulled the sheet from the bed and used it to tie Lazenby' s legs. Lazenby tried to resist but Hannibal Lecter' s will was stronger. In the end, he took off the pillow from its pillowcase and used the pillowcase to blindfold and gag Lazenby.  
  
It was only when the man was neutralized that he realized he had been hurt. He put his hand to his stomach. The pain made him shiver. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. He took a few seconds to recompose and slowly headed to the door. He opened it and went out. He answered Clarice' s silent question : "He's safe and secured on the bed." he said " I blindfolded him, you can enter to check". Then he made his way to the stairs.  
  
  
Clarice pushed the door wide opened and had a look. Lazenby was struggling with his bonds. No doubt he was alive and healthy.  
  
Hannibal missed a step and just stopped himself falling by grabbing the rail. Clarice heard the noise and saw him loose his balance. She had a last look at Lazenby and closed the door. "Dr Lecter ?" she called carefully. As he did not answer or move, she came closer. "Dr Lecter ? Is everything OK ?" She passed down him and looked at him. Even in the half light of the dawn, she saw the paleness of his face. "Dr Lecter ?" she asked for the third time, "What's wrong ?".  
  
He gave her a poor smile. "I guess I am becoming too old for this kind of games, Clarice." he said softly. Clarice put her hand on his belly. She immediately realized the humidity of his shirt could not be due only to sweat. She looked at her hands and saw the blood.   
  
" - Hannibal !" she cried out. He shushed her.  
" - Shh, Clarice. I don't want our friend up there to hear you.  
- Jesus, what happened ?  
- A little technical hitch, I would say. Don't worry, I don't think it's serious." She saw his hands trembling on the rail.  
" - Lean on me." she said.  
  
She helped him down the stairs and into the sitting room. She made him sit on the couch. She removed his jacket and switch on the little lamp on the coffee table. His shirt was covered with blood.  
  
" - Christ !  
- Clarice, please stay calm. Last thing I need is you to panic. Could you get to the bathroom and get me some towels. Maybe a pan of hot water too ?"  
  
She did not answer but ran up the stairs. In the bathroom, she found a medicine cabinet and took some alcohol and some bandage, along with all the towels she could see. Then she went to the kitchen and got the water. She was about to leave when she saw a bottle of whisky. She took it.   
  
When she came back to the sitting room, Hannibal was lying on the couch, his face turned to the back of it. She put her material on the table and kneeled next to him.  
  
" Let me see." she said. Her voice was calm now. He turned his face to her. When she started to unbutton his shirt, he seized her hands.  
  
" - I can do it, Clarice.  
- Hannibal Lecter ! Stop being childish, will you. You're not the first man I will see stripped to the waist."  
  
He sighed and let go her hands. She unbuttoned and removed his shirt. "Shit !" she said. She started cleaning his belly. Blood was running abundantly from a eight inches cut on his stomach.   
  
" - It's bleeding too much." she said. "But I don't think any organ was touched.  
- It was a letter opener. Not sharp enough to make big damages." His voice was weakening. She knew she had to keep him awake.  
" - Hannibal, come on, keep talking to me. Tell me what happened."  
  
He started telling her about his fight with Lazenby. She took a towel and pressed it hard on the wound. He tensed up and choke back a cry of pain. He gritted his teeth and turned his face to the back of the couch.  
  
Clarice put her free hand on his forehead. "Sorry," she said softly " but I must stop the bleeding". He nodded and looked at her. They stayed like that for a few minutes. His face was tensed with pain, but he did not moan. She was gently stroking his forehead and whispering words of alleviation.  
  
Then she cautiously released the pressure and raised the towel. The blood had stopped pouring but the towel was soaked. Clarice took a clean linen and started disinfecting the wound with alcohol. Hannibal let her do without complaining, keeping his eyes on her. Then she dressed the wound carefully. She took the bottle of whisky and helped him take a sip.  
  
He was starting relaxing. She let him fall slowly asleep. He shivered. She went up and got a blanket from the empty room upstairs. She opened Lazenby' s bedroom and had a look. The man had stopped struggling and was resting on his bed. She closed the door and went down.  
  
Hannibal' s eyes were closed, but his sleep was agitated. She covered him with the blanket and sat on the floor near him. She leaned against the couch and took his right hand in hers. The contact of her hand seemed to calm him a bit. She breathed heavily and started reviewing the events of the night. She felt back the anguish that had caught her when she had seen he was injured, the fear she felt when she removed his shirt and saw all the blood.  
  
Although it was difficult for her to admit it, she had been scared. Scared to loose him.  
  
She gave a wry smile. One week ago, she would have sworn Hannibal Lecter was her worst enemy. She would have been sincere. But would have it been true ? To say her emotions were confused was a euphemism. Hannibal moved on the couch. She put her hand on his chest and soothed him. She leaned her head on the couch and stared at him. Would she ever been able to understand this man ? So much violence in him, and yet, sometimes, what she read in his eyes was so close to tenderness. And would she ever been able to understand her feelings for him ?  
  
Slowly, Clarice felt asleep.  
  


* * *

  
She was woken up by the bright light of the sun. She yawned loudly. She felt a thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. She looked up.  
  
" - Hannibal ! How do you feel ?  
- I'm OK, Clarice. Thanks to you."  
- Umh." she nodded.  
  
His voice was low and he was very pale, but seemed a little better. She had a look at the wound: the dressing was clean. She sat straight, groaning at her painful muscle.  
  
" - You slept on the floor." he said. "Your whole body must be aching.  
- Not the first time." She smiled. " So, what do we do now ?  
- I guess we should take care of our host." As she looked at him puzzled, he added: " Feed him, I mean. And perhaps a glass of water ?  
- Yeah."  
  
She stood up. She saw the rictus of pain when he tried to sit.  
  
" - Easy." she said, forcing him back to the couch. " Where do you think you're going ?  
- Kitchen." She looked at him with a self explanatory look. He smiled. " At least, this is what I'm trying to do.  
- How is pain ?  
- Bearable." Knowing the man's notion of what was bearable, she was not sure this was good news.  
  
" - Clarice, would you do one last thing for me ?  
- Sure.  
- I would need a bandage, something tight enough to keep the wound together.  
- All right ... You won't give up anyway, will you ?"  
  
He smiled. She helped him lean on his elbows and started banding his waist. " As tight as you can." he said. She complied. When the operation was finished, he sat. "Thank you, Clarice ... Breakfast !" he said.  
  
She helped him up but he refused her support to walk. In the kitchen, he started checking the fridge and the cupboards. "Umh," he said. " I think we can arrange something. He picked up some bacon and eggs and found a pan in one of the cupboards. She watched him fry the bacon. He was whistling. She smiled. Contradictory thoughts started to invade her mind again. How could she feel so well when he was around ? When did it start ? When did she stop being special agent Clarice Starling, the incorruptible Clarice Starling ?  
  
She shook her head to get rid of her thought. As she looked down, she saw his hand gripped to the border of the counter. She went to him and put her arm around his waist. Then she gently pushed him to one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
" - I'll cook." she said.  
" - Clarice, please, stop mothering me. The wound is not serious. I will survive.  
- I have no doubt about it. But you've lost a lot of blood, you have fever and you're in pain.  
- Does all this qualify you as a cook ?  
- Sure does. Lazenby could not reach your stomach but I think I can finish the job." she said with a grin. He chuckled.  
  
They ate their breakfast in silence. Then Clarice started preparing something for Lazenby as well. When she had finished, she put everything on a tray. Hannibal stood up and preceded her.  
  
" - Where are you going ?" she asked.  
- I am going to serve his breakfast to our host, why ?  
- I can do it.  
- Clarice, Lazenby does not know of your presence. And I intent to keep it this way. I will let you cook or whatever you want to do, but I am dealing with William Lazenby." As she was about to answer he added: " This is non negotiable, agent Starling.  
- Whatever you say, boss."  
  
They went up. He opened the door and she handed him the tray. He went to the bed and put his load on the bedside table. Lazenby had felt his presence and was mumbling and struggling.. Hannibal sat on the bed.  
  
" Here, here, here. Please calm down, Mr. Lazenby. Let me explain you the situation. I have currently no intention to kill you, or even to hurt you. But I need to keep you quiet for a couple of days. I can see two ways of doing that. The first one implies cooperation from your side and courtesy from mine." Lazenby was still now and listening to him. "The second way would be simpler for me, because I would not have to trust you. However, it would involve violence and could turn out to be for you a little bit ... unpleasant. So, which way do you prefer ?"  
  
Lazenby mumble again. "Umh, I see we have a little problem of communication here. This is what I suggest: I will remove your gag, and in gratitude you will avoid screaming. Would that arrangement suit you ?" Lazenby nodded. "Okey-dokey. Here we are." Lazenby took a deep breath.  
  
" - Who the hell are you ?" he asked.  
" - I don't believe this is relevant to our conversation. Now, I see I might have been a little in a hurry last night. These bonds are rather tight. Perhaps I could ease them a little bit, what do you think ?  
- Yes.  
- Right. But I would need you to promise me you will not try anything foolish, will you ? Something to make me regret my kind gesture ...  
- No.  
- All right, I'll trust you."  
  
His voice was soft, but yet enough threatening to make the man freeze for a whole week, Clarice thought. Hannibal stood up and took it to loosen a little bit the links he had tied on Lazenby' s legs. Then he went back to sit near the bedside table.  
  
" OK. Now that we are a little bit more comfortable, what would you think about a breakfast ? Unfortunately, I cannot uncover your eyes, and this for your own safety as you may have understood. So I guess I will have to feed you. Believe me, this perspective does not please more than it pleases you, but if we both behave as reasonable human beings, I am certain we can make it through. All right ?  
- Yes.  
- Good ! Now open up."  
  
Hannibal fed him with the bacon and eggs Clarice had prepared. It took him about half an hour. Meantime, Clarice silently went to the large cupboard which was standing against the wall and opened it carefully. She took a clean shirt from it, as well as a woolen jacket.  
  
When Lazenby had finished his meal, Hannibal helped him drink a glass of water.   
  
" - OK. Now, I have to put back your gag.  
- It is not necessary.  
- Umh, I'm afraid it is. I'm sorry. But I will try not to put it too tight so that you can breathe normally. May I suggest you have a rest now."  
  
When he had finished, Hannibal stood up with difficulties. He took the tray and headed to the door. As soon as he was out, Clarice closed the door behind him and took the tray from his hands. She put it on a little pier table in the corridor and put her arm around his waist. Hannibal put his arm on her shoulder and leant on her with relief.  
  
She slowly led him down the stairs and to a large armchair in the sitting room. He looked exhausted. The effort he had done with Lazenby had apparently drained away all his energy. He closed his eyes.  
  
Clarice covered him with Lazenby' s jacket and went to clean up the kitchen. When she came back, he was sleeping. She settled on the couch. There were some magazines on the coffee table. She took one and started leaf through it. It was half past two on Saturday. They still had time before Malcolm Van Basten would show up.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	17. There must be no fear

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 17: There must be no fear  
  
Clarice was immersed in an article about New Orleans when she heard Hannibal move on the armchair. She raised her eyes. He was still sleeping but his sleep had become more agitated and sweat was covering his forehead. She put the magazine on the couch and looked at him for a few seconds. His body was restless. At one point, he started mumbling something but she did not get the words. She went and sat on the arm of his armchair.  
  
" Hannibal ?" she called. No reaction. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. " Hannibal, wake up." He moaned but yet was still asleep. She shook him again, but harder this time and raised her voice. " Hannibal, come on, wake up, you're having a nightmare." As she was despairing of making him react, he suddenly opened his eyes wide at her and grabbed her wrist with such force that he hurt her. His eyes were full of rage, but it did not scare her. "Easy," she tried to soothe him. " Hannibal, it's me. Clarice. Calm down. You just had a nightmare, but it's over now."  
  
As soon as he realized who she was, he released the pressure on her arm and the anger in his look disappeared instantaneously.   
  
" - Clarice, I'm ... ". His breathing was short. " Clarice, I'm sorry .. I did not want ...   
- Shh. It's OK. Calm down now. It's over.  
- I never wanted to hurt you ... I'm ...  
- I know. Easy, it was just a nightmare." He closed his eyes.  
" - Clarice, please forgive me. I never thought ...  
- Hannibal, it's all right. You did not know it was me. Come on, look at me."  
  
  
When he opened his eyes again, what Clarice read in them overwhelmed her. No man had ever looked at her the way he was now. She had seen love before, but that was above love. It was ... need ... an urgent need. As if his eyes were draining the substance of his own life from her very sight. As if his very existence was depending on hers, and nothing else in the world counted anymore. He was still holding her wrist. He took her hands to his mouth and slowly, without ever stopping staring at her, he kissed the palm of her hand. At this precise instant of her life, Clarice Starling knew she would never ever be the same person again.  
  
Hannibal Lecter had never been able to feel anything but absolute feelings. Rage, violence, hate, pain, grief, each of these emotions that were measurable in any human being, for him were total. Compromises did not exist. What he was experiencing for Clarice was love. Love in its purest form. Love without confines ... Almost indecent. The thought of her made his blood boil in his veins. Her presence made every cell of this body burn. And the idea that he could have hurt her, even without wanting it, raised in him a fear beyond imagination. For the first time in his life, Hannibal was scared. Deep down inside scared. He kissed her hand, just to be sure she was alive. Just to be sure he was alive. And then he let go the tears.  
  
Clarice saw the tear grow at the corner of his eye, then rolled freely. But grief was nowhere to be seen in his eyes. He didn't blink, as if afraid she would be gone if he lost sight of her, even for a single instant. She put her hand on his cheek and wiped the tear without a word. But other tears were already falling and bursting as they reached her hand.  
  
He put his hand on her side and she felt its warmth on her skin as if she was naked. She shivered.  
  
" - There must be no fear, Clarice.  
- I have no fear."  
  
Hannibal slowly pulled her from the armchair arm into his lap. He drowned his hand in her hair and brought her head closer. He smelled her. His lips started softly brushing her neck. Then she felt his tongue licking the back of her ears as if he wanted to taste her. By the time his mouth had made its way to hers, Clarice was on fire. She wanted to scream but no sound passed her throat. He pressed his lips against hers and she opened her mouth. When his tongue penetrated her, she felt he was drinking her.  
  
Clarice dug her nails in his bare back. Then she felt as if a dozen hands were exploring her body. Without understanding how, she found herself naked lying on the floor. Hannibal was moaning against her. He softly nibbled her nipples. When his hand reached the inner of her thigh and started caressing her most intimate body, she thought she was dying. She wanted him inside her. But he did not take her. Not until he had put all her senses on fire. Not until each and every part of her body was trembling with desire.  
  
Then he possessed her. Deeply. Deliberately.  
  
Clarice had never been loved like this. His whole body was committed to her pleasure. Just before she finally fell asleep in his arms, her last thought was that she had drowned in him, incurably drowned in him.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal was looking at her sleeping. He felt he could never stop looking at her, even if he had to live two thousand years. She was his and he belonged to her. Even if she decided to leave him and get her life back, she would always be his and he would always belong to her.  
  
He knew how difficult it was going to be for her to take a decision. He would not influence her. He would let her decide. And whatever her choice would be, he would respect it. For she had given him more than he had ever received in his life. More than he could ever have expected to receive.  
  
And he knew seeing her unhappy would kill him.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	18. Malcolm Van Basten

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 18: Malcolm Van Basten  
  
Clarice woke up at the sound of Hannibal' s cell phone. It took her a second or two to recollect her senses and remember where she was and what had just happened. She looked at the man lying beside her. He was sleeping. She pushed him gently. "Hannibal, your phone's ringing." He groaned and turned to his side. She smiled.  
  
Night had fallen and she had difficulties finding his jacket and phone in the dark. Finally she got it. "Allo ... John ! This is Clarice. What's up ? ... No. Neil is busy right now, but I can take a message ... " She went back to sit near him. " What ? ... When ? ... OK, I'll tell him ... No. Do not follow him, John. We'll take over from now on ... No. We should be back tomorrow ... Yes, I will tell him. Try to get some sleep now. See you."  
  
Hannibal put his hand on her stomach. She smiled.   
  
" - It was John on the phone." she said.  
" - What did he want ?" His voice was still sleepy.  
" - Van Basten has just left Morgantown.  
- We have about three hours, then." His hand was getting up to her breast. She took it and kissed the tip of his fingers.  
" - And a lot of things to do." She said.  
  
He sat behind her and put his arms around her. " Do I have the right to a kiss before getting to work ?" She turned to him and offered her lips. He kissed her very tenderly.   
  
" - I need a shower." she said when they parted. "Would you be so kind to wash my back, Dr Lecter."  
" - Always eager to help the FBI, agent Starling.  
- Thank you.  
- My pleasure."  
  
They spent almost one hour in the bathroom. Then they went back downstairs to retrieve their clothes. Lazenby' s shirt was at least two sizes too large for Hannibal. Clarice grinned at him when he put it on. He grabbed her by the waist and faked biting her, which made her laugh more. She felt him slightly tense up when her back hit his stomach. She turned at him.  
  
" - Hannibal, are you all right ?" she asked, concern in her voice. He smiled.  
" - Never been better. I'm gonna check on Lazenby.  
- OK. Meantime I will see if I can find some rope or something in his garage.  
- See you around ..."  
  
He kissed her on the cheek and let her go.  
  


* * *

  
They had cleaned up the living room and had been waiting in the dark for more than one hour now. Hannibal was standing near the front door, while Clarice was ready to intervene in the living room. she was beginning to get impatient.  
  
" Clarice, he's coming. Be ready" he whispered. Clarice had not heard anything but she trusted him. Another minute passed before she detected the sound of footsteps on the lawn. She prepared.  
  
The sound of a blade on the lock of the door. Then the almost inaudible creaking of the door knob. She did not hear the door open, but felt a breath of fresh air on her face. She tensed up.  
  
Hannibal let him enter. He cautiously passed behind Van Basten. Then he simultaneously slammed the door with his foot and passed his arm on Malcolm throat and pulled him back to him. But the young man reacted fast and threw his elbow to Hannibal' s stomach. The pain irradiated in his whole body, but Hannibal did not release his grasp. Clarice appeared at that moment and punched Van Basten in the face. Van Basten groaned but managed to get rid of Hannibal, who fell on the floor.  
  
Hannibal was getting back on his feet when he saw Van Basten rush on Clarice with a saber in his hand. Hannibal jumped on his back with a strength he did not think he had left. The shock forced Van Basten to let go of the sword. The two men started to struggle ferociously. Starling took her gun and pointed it at hem. "Freeze !" she shouted. But neither of them stopped. The fight was violent. But they were so close to each other that Clarice could not shoot Van Basten without running the risk of hitting Hannibal.  
  
She took her gun by its other end and moved to the two fighting men. When Van Basten was on her side, she bashed him over the head with the grip. Van Basten fell to the floor, groggy. Clarice profited from his temporary harmlessness to grab him by the collar and draw him to the dinning table. she forced him on his stomach and took the rope she had prepared. She tied both his arms and legs to the table legs.  
  
He was neutralized.  
  
Clarice wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was only then that she realized Hannibal was not with her. She went back to the hall and saw him. He was on the floor, lying on his side, his face turned towards the wall. She ran and kneeled behind him. "Hannibal, are you all right ?" As he did not answer, she tried to pull him back but he resisted. "Hannibal ?" She bent over him.  
  
His hands were pressed on his stomach and his face was distorted by pain. She cautiously took him in her arms and rocked him gently. They stayed like that a few minutes, before the intensity of his pain decreased. She turned him on his back. "Let me see." she said.  
  
His eyes were closed. She unbuttoned his shirt and undid the bandage. The wound had widely reopened and blood was running again. She tore the shirt and used it to contain the flow. His breathing was still irregular.   
  
Hannibal opened his eyes and saw the blood on Clarice' s shirt. He raised his hand to her shoulder and held it.  
  
" - Clarice ... What happened ... to you ? Are you ... all right ?" She looked at him, surprised. Then in the direction of his eyes.  
" - It's not mine, Hannibal. It is your blood !"  
  
He sighed in relief.  
  
" - Van Basten ?" he asked  
" - Secured."  
  
The pain progressively eased a bit. When he was calm enough, she put his hand on the soaked shirt. " Hold it. I'll be right back". He nodded. She ran to the bathroom and came back with some gauze and bandages. The bleeding had almost stopped. She dressed the wound as tight as he could take it.  
  
She helped him sit against the wall and sat beside him. She put her head against his chest. He put his hand on her hair and stroke it.  
  
" - Thank you, Clarice. It looks as if you are becoming my personal nurse. Perhaps we should discuss your wages.  
- And you find this is funny ?" she asked, a bit of anger in her voice.  
" - No." He kissed her head. "But I love it when you take care of me.  
- Hannibal Lecter, don't ever scare me like that again, OK !  
- Understood. " He held her closer.  
  
He gave her time to recover. He knew what she had been through emotionally speaking in the last hours. He would have liked to lift her in his arms and reassure her with his strength, but that did not seem quite feasible for the moment.  
  
" - Clarice, I think we should go now. We have a job to finish.  
- Can you walk ?  
- Of course ... I may need a little help to get up though. And I think I could use another of Mr. Lazenby' s shirts. And perhaps a pullover if you can find one ?  
- I'll get that."  
  
She helped him get on his feet and put on the clothes. Then she cleaned up the mess they had left in the struggle.  
  
It was 4:00 am when they left William Lazenby' s house. Hannibal was leaning on Clarice, his arm around her shoulder. They slowly walked to his car. " I guess it would be wiser if you drive, Clarice. Do you mind ?" he asked, handing the car keys to her. She took the keys and settled him in the passenger seat.  
  


* * *

  
She was driving fast on the motorway. From time to time, she gave a look at Hannibal. He had fallen in a state of drowsiness as soon as they had left Clearfountain. He looked peaceful.  
  
She was peaceful too, now. Her mind was clear. The man sitting in the passenger seat next to her was the man she loved. No matter what he was and what he had done, she loved him. Clarice had never been more certain of anything else in her life.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	19. Back with the FBI

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 19: Back with the FBI  
  
Hannibal woke up when they arrived in Morgantown.  
  
" - We should get back your car, Clarice". She glanced at him.  
" - Can you drive ?  
- I'll manage." As he saw doubts in her eyes, he added: "Not that I feel fully operational, but I don't believe we have much choice. You're gonna need your car tonight. I'll be all right."  
  
She parked the BMW in front of Van Basten' s house, where she had left the Mustang on the first day. Before she stepped out of the car, he handed her a key.  
  
" - This is the key of my garage. I believe it is safer if you leave your car there. It is about thirty feet after the house, on the right. A big brown door.  
- I'll find it.  
- See you soon."  
  
She gave him a little kiss on the lips and left. The natural simplicity of her gesture touched him. There were still so many things he had to discover about her.  
  


* * *

  
He had left the front door opened for her. She found him in the kitchen, busy preparing sandwiches. He had taken off his pullover and she could see the powerful muscles of his back through his shirt.  
  
She came behind him, put her arms around his waist end rested her head on his back. He jumped. She immediately released the pressure.  
  
" - Sorry, did I hurt you ?  
- No. You excited me." She held him closer and inhaled his scent. "Any single contact with you sets me on fire, Clarice. Let me concentrate on the sandwiches, will you ?" She chuckled.  
  
They ate in the kitchen. Then they spent a tender moment in each other' s arms. Words were useless. Finally, Hannibal pulled back.  
  
" - You should get some rest. You have not slept and you will need all your strength tonight. Take the bedroom. You will be more comfortable." She kissed him.  
" - Will you join me ?" she asked mischievously.  
" - Who knows ? Anything can happen, Clarice."  
  
She smiled and let him alone.  
  


* * *

  
He retired in his study to prepare the 'anonymous' messages Clarice would need to justify her investigation in Morgantown. Hannibal had come to the limit of what he could do to neutralize the 'daffodil club'. Next step had to involve the authorities and for obvious reasons he could not be part of it.  
  
The only contribution he could give at this point was to provide Clarice with an alibi for being here when she would contact the local police and the FBI. They had decided he would simulate the continuation of the 'messaging campaign' he had initiated in the first place, giving more and more details that could have led her to suspect Van Basten and his friends.  
  
Of course, there would still be a lot of explanation to give. She would have to justify the fact that she had not informed the FBI of the lead she was following. But after all, she had shown the first two messages to her boss and he had demonstrated no interest in them, advising her to give up. She could always pretend she had decided to follow her intuition. For sure, they would blame her for that. But the arrest of four serial killers would certainly smooth things.  
  
It could work. The real uncertainty was if she would be able to convince the police to intervene before eight tonight, when the last meeting of the club was to initiate.  
  
Then, there was also the issue of Van Basten and Lazenby to solve. There was no way Clarice could confess she had kept Lazenby locked up for twenty four hours, and then let him alone in his house with Van Basten - even securely tied to the table. She would have to declare she had lost his trace when he left Morgantown. Then, an anonymous phone call would inform the police of the events of Clearfountain. Clarice would suggest it was an intervention of her mysterious informer - which was not so far from reality. That would be a little harder to sell, but could work either.  
  
The phone call would be given by John. They could not run the risk someone could recognize his voice or hers. John had no criminal records and therefore was on no files. They would never find him.  
  
  
Hannibal sighed. The drawback of this plan was that Clarice would have to handle it alone. He would not be there to help or protect her in case of problem. This thought had poisoned his mind since they had started defining the plan.  
  
But they did not have much choice. As the only thing he could do for her was to write this series of messages, he forced himself to concentrate on the task so that they would be irreproachable.  
  
It took him almost two hours to build the three notes. He read them one last time and started folding the sheets of paper to give them the aspect of over manipulation. When he was finally satisfied with the result, he put them on Clarice' s purse, just to be sure she would not forget them.  
  
Hannibal was feeling weak and the drug pain he had taken when he had arrived home was starting to loose its effects. He went to the bathroom and swallowed two pills. Then he went to the bedroom.  
  
Clarice was sleeping in his large bed. She had kept her jeans and shirt and had curled on her side, as children often do. He approached the bed silently and laid down next to her, cautious not to wake her up. He leant on his elbow and just watch her sleep.  
  
He stayed there in silence, never full with her sight. Clarice moved slightly and opened her eyes. She put her hand on his chest. He took it and methodically kissed every finger. "I love you" she said. It was merely a whisper. These three little words, these three simple words she had just said to him for the first time were for Hannibal like a lightning striking directly to his soul.  
  
He pulled her to him. They made love tenderly. Far from the fury of the first time, they discovered each other slowly, completely, until they became just one.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice was lying in his arms. She could feel his breathing in her hair. She felt she could stay there forever.  
  
" - Clarice, you should prepare to go now." he whispered. She kissed his chest.  
" - Five minutes more." she pleaded.  
" - I won't be able to let you go in five minutes." She sat. "I left the messages with your purse, on the table.  
- So, you're not gonna kiss me good bye on the doorstep, are you ?  
- No."  
  
She got up and started getting dressed. He stayed in bed and watch her. "Clarice, you have to promise me you will take care of yourself."  
  
His voice was deep. Clarice understood his concern was genuine. God, how it felt to be loved this way ! "I'll be as cautious as a mouse." she answered. When she was ready, she sat on the bed next to him. She gave him a long kiss. She stood up and headed for the door.  
  
" - See you later." she said.  
" - I love you, Clarice."  
  
She turned back to him. she did not have to word an answer, her eyes were speaking for her. She left.  
  
The words floated in the air long after she was gone. Hannibal had never thought he could have said them to anyone. He stayed there lying in his bed, inhaling the scent she had left in the sheets. He had to do something, or he would go crazy.  
  
He got up and dressed. He went to the living room. He took his cell phone and dialed John' s number. He gave him the instructions for the call he had to pass to the police in the evening. The young man did not ask him questions. He had understood he would not get answer. The kid was bright, he thought once again.  
  
" - Will I see you again, Neil ?  
- I don't think so, John.  
- Neil ... I wanted to thank you.  
- What for ?  
- For having taught me.  
- That's my job, isn't it ?  
- I don't know. Good bye, Neil.  
- Good bye, John."   
  


* * *

  
Hannibal sat on the couch. He was feeling empty. Clarice had left less than one hour ago, and he was feeling empty.  
  
Tonight, Clarice would find her back in her world. She would be again special agent Clarice Starling, from the FBI. Tonight she would do what she liked more, what she had always wanted to do. And he would not be there.  
  
Then, when everything would be finished, when the fury and excitation would be gone, she would have to decide. In the loneliness of the night, she would have to choose between getting her life back ... or turning back to him. And there was nothing he could do, except wait for her.  
  
Seeing him quiet on the couch, no one could have guessed the storm that was raging inside him or the turmoil of his feelings.  
  
He suddenly stood up. He had to see her, even from far, even if for the last time. He took his car keys and went out.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	20. End of the game

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Chapter 20: End of the game  
  
Hannibal had arrived at the gym at six. He had parked the car about 30 ft from the entrance. From his position, he had a clear view on the building, but was far enough not to be noticed. He saw the first elements of what he identified as in plain clothes SWAT team progressively arrive on the site and take strategic positions. There were probably police officers and FBI agents as well. So, Clarice had made it. She had convinced them. He felt proud of her.  
  
This feeling of pride, though, was mitigated by the fact he had not seen her. This worried him a bit. What had they done with her ? He hoped they were not inflicting her one of those endless interrogation that was the specialty of the FBI.  
  
Hannibal was relieved when Clarice finally arrived at 7:30 pm. She was in company of a man, about forty years old, Hannibal estimated from his remote lookout post. The talked briefly and then entered the gym. She would have a ringside seat. Hannibal had secretly hoped they would keep her hidden in a place nearby. He smiled. He knew her too well to know she wouldn't have accepted that, even if they had offered.  
  
Paul Ramsey arrived first. Followed five minutes later by Kowalski and Judith Valentine. Nothing happened for about ten minutes. Then he heard the gunshot and his heart froze. The sound of a fusillade resounded in the street. He saw the SWAT team rush inside.  
  
Hannibal' s life was like suspended. He was sitting there, inside his car, not knowing if the only woman he ever loved was safe. The waiting was unbearable.  
  
Why was it taking so long ? The noise of the fight had stopped for ten minutes now, but no one had come out of the building. He heard the sirens of an ambulance coming closer. The vehicle stopped right in front of the gym and two medics entered the building. Hannibal was agonizing. All he wanted to do was run inside and see her. Take her in his arms.  
  
People started going out of the gym. But Clarice was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Finally he saw her fine silhouette in the doorstep. She was alive and apparently safe. She was holding Valentine by the elbow and pushed her to one of the police car that had arrived. Hannibal took a deep breath. She was alive.  
  
She was beautiful. She was concentrated on her task and moving with her usual efficiency. His little soldier ...  
  
After about half an hour, the first police cars started to leave the scene. Clarice was in one of them. It was over.  
  
Clarice would probably spend part of the night at the police station, with her fellow investigators. There was nothing more he could do now. The dices were cast. He could only wait ... and hope.  
  


* * *

  
It was almost 5:00 am when Clarice turned back to Hannibal' s house. She opened the door slowly, assuming he was sleeping and not wanting to wake him up. She silently moved to the kitchen and helped herself a glass of water. As she was heading to the bedroom, she saw him sitting on the couch. "Hannibal ? What are you doing here alone in the dark ? You should be resting. You should not have waited for me. I told you it could take time."  
  
As he did not answer, she came closer. He was pallid. "Hannibal ! What's wrong ? Are you in pain ?" He shook his head negatively. She kneeled before him and put her hands on his thighs. He bent his head. "Hannibal," she said, concern in her voice, "please, tell me. What's wrong ?" She put her hand on his chin and forced him to look at her.  
  
" - I ... I did not know ..." he finally said. His voice was hoarse, as if speaking was an effort. She looked at him, puzzled.  
" - You did not know what ? Tell me.  
- I was not sure you would come back.  
- Hannibal ... Why the hell did you ... Why ? Why wouldn't I have come back ? I promised you I would be cautious. You should know by now I always keep my promises.  
- It's not that.  
- Then what is it ?"  
  
Clarice did not understand what he meant. She knew he was close to breaking down but had no idea on how to help him.  
  
" - This is your life, Clarice" he started " The FBI. Tonight, you looked so comfortable with it.  
- You were there ?  
- I could not help it.  
...  
- Hannibal," She was looking at him straight in the eyes. Her voice was calm and resolute. " This is not my life. This was my life. Now, my life is you. I have no idea of what's gonna happen to me tomorrow or the day after. And I don't care. All I know is that I want to be with you."  
  
He gently removed her hand from his cheeks and held it.  
  
" - You know who I am, Clarice. You, better than anyone else in the world know who I am. I am a criminal. I am a fugitive ... I am Hannibal Lecter ... the cannibal as they call me. This is who I am.  
- I know.  
- No, you don't." He paused for a while. "I love you, Clarice. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before, more than my life itself. But I am Hannibal Lecter. I cannot promise you I can dominate the violence I have in me. The only thing I am sure of is that I will never hurt you. But it would be vain to tell you I will change. I cannot change who I am. Nobody can.  
- I did not ask you to.  
- You did not ask me yet. But what in a month ? What in a year ? I will always be on the run, Clarice. Till the day I die.  
- I can deal with that.  
- I know you can ... But is this what you want ? There will be no turning back, Clarice"  
  
She stared at him and took the time to really ask herself the question before answering. Hannibal' s eyes were piercing her, as if he was trying to read her very soul.  
  
" This is what I want, my love." she finally said. " A part of you will always be Hannibal the cannibal, and a part of me will always be special agent Starling. But a part of you and me will become us ... This is what I want. No matter how far back I can search, I don't remember having wanted anything more than this."  
  
With an unimaginable strength, he lifted her to him and kissed her passionately. Then he held her against him so close she felt his heart was beating in her chest. She passed her arms around his neck and locked her hands behind his head. Nobody could ever unlock this chain.  
  


* * *

  
Later in the morning they decided they would go back to Washington, to Clarice' s apartment. No one would ever look for him there.  
  
After a couple of days resting, Hannibal had almost fully recovered from his wound. He had profited of these days to make certain arrangements for their future. He had become a professional of being on the run. There were a number of places in the world where they could stay reasonably safe and he had enough hidden bank accounts for them to live the rest of their life without worrying.   
  
Clarice had turned back to work and the FBI gurus were giving her a hard time. But she didn't care because she knew the whole game would be ending soon. When she came home at night, he was there. And nothing else mattered. She could not avoid feeling that as long as he would be there, nothing wrong could ever happen to her.  
  
Hannibal was feeling happy. This was a feeling he had never experienced before and it was strangely pleasant to him. He did not fool himself. He knew the turmoil could come back any time. But for the moment, he was enjoying each and every minute of his life. He thought that in some ways, he was probably experiencing what a teenage boy was feeling the first time he discovered love. And come to think of it, that was not so far from reality.  
  
On Wednesday morning, Clarice did not go to work. The FBI never heard of her again.  
  
  


* * *

To be continued - well, you're almost there ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



	21. Epilogue

  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
Hannibal parked the Jaguar just after the post office. He opened the door for Clarice and they entered the building holding each other' s hand. They waited for they turn in silence, then Clarice took the sheet of paper from her purse and handed it to the clerk. It was the same lady as the previous time but she did not recognize either of them.  
  
Hannibal paid the two dollars for the fax and Clarice signed the receipt.  
  
They went out. Outside, the sun was shining. They walked to the car. Hannibal gave her a gentle kiss before she slipped into the car. He then joined the driver seat, started the engine and they disappeared in the traffic.  
  
  
" Dear Ardelia,  
  
I always thought you and Brian were made for each other. He is your soul mate and you are his. Despite your quarrels, I am certain that one day you will understand it and decide to spend the rest of your life together. I wish you a hundred years of happiness.  
  
I have finally found my soul mate.  
  
I haven't lost my mind and I am leaving of my own free will. I have no doubts, no fear and no regrets.  
  
I am in peace now.  
  
Love,  
C. "  
  
- The End -  
  
  


* * *

That's it ! I hope you liked it, and you did not get bored to death ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.  
Absolut  
  
  



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